I like those two words so much that I often use them as my user name on Internet sites. (Don’t tell anyone, please.) I realize that any given moment could be the very last time I see someone or something, I do something, I experience something. We just don’t know.
Yesterday Jody spent many hours being disoriented. She slept well, thanks to an increased dose of her sedative. When she awoke this morning (with me lying beside her bed on a foam pad), I sensed that Jody was “there” as she asked for water. I wondered whether this was the last time we would have an oriented conversation. And so, I began:
“I love you, my dear.”
“I love you too.”
“I’m glad you’re my wife.”
“I’m glad you’re my wife … (smiles) … husband.”
To be so present right then was stunning and truly wonderful. Oh, if only I could be this way always with everyone, not knowing if this time is our last. I’m thinking of an old friend Linda, whom I palled (or is that “paled” – no, that’s not right) around with at the Prince of Wales Hotel in Alberta, and later in Vancouver. We had such good talks. Linda was the older sister I never had. And then we lost touch. Miraculously, years later, I saw her on the streets of Calgary and introduced her to Jody. And then she was gone, and she remains so. Was I present to our moment of departure from each other? I fear not.
When will be the last time that I:
– ride my bike ta-pocketa?
– eat pumpkin pie?
– go dancing?
– write a post in Bruce’s Blog?
– walk in the mountains?
– tell someone I love them?
– sing a song and play guitar?
– sit cozied up in my man chair, reading a good book?
– set foot in my home … 6265 Bostwick Road, Union, Ontario?
– wear a t-shirt and shorts?
– say something silly?
– be on a beach in the Caribbean?
– drive a car?
– josh around with people at Costco?
– make love?
– watch “The Razor’s Edge” and “Titanic”? (my two favourite movies)
– am with Jody?
The mystery unfoldeth