I can’t believe it’s May 1st. I should, as we celebrated my two boys’ birthday last night. 26 and 30 years old. Born the same day, four years apart. It leaves me amazed, for lack of a better adjective, how quickly the days and years have passed. It also makes me sort of sad, as watching my grandkids during the day leaves me realizing the same thing is happening to them.
I think as a young mother, you don’t realize how fast the time is slipping by. Your too busy changing diapers and running bath water. Doing tubs of laundry daily and wiping up spills. You’re consumed with the next activity whether it be a softball game or assisting with homework that you don’t realize your days til they walk out the door are now limited when at one time you thought you had forever.
I’m not sure how all that came out except to go back to the beginning and say once again, I can’t believe it’s May 1st. Parkinson’s Awareness month is now over and I flaked out on making others aware. Go ahead and throw the tomatoes. I don’t think I could have done any better.
I’ve been trying to meet a deadline for three writing projects I’ve been working on and it was last night so perhaps that accounts for the fact that this post is being written. It may also have something to do with the fact that John is sleeping and Clara is at preschool.
Anyhow, as my grandkids grow, I wonder, will today be the last day for opportunities to rock them because they won’t fit on my lap any longer? Will today be the last day for Clara excited to see me when I pick her up from school and she runs into my arms? Will today be the last day John is enamored with a hummingbird and waves bye-bye as it flies away?
Sometimes life can bring us down. Who am I kidding? Sometimes life DOES bring us down. The important thing to remember is it’s deadly to stay down. We don’t necessarily die physically, but when you deal with a chronic illness day in and day out, constant pain on top of that, loss of mobility – whatever comes with what you have – we can die in our spirit. We lose the desire to be a part of the fleeting days. We want to ‘fleet’ right along with them. Life is sometimes, almost, unbearable.
That’s one reason I watch my grandkids – because life is so precious and we aren’t promised tomorrow. That can be taken two ways. First, we aren’t promised tomorrow in that we may not have the opportunity ever again to spend time with those we love. We may choke on an olive at dinner tonight and that will be it. Second, we aren’t promised tomorrow in that we may still be here physically, but be in a place where we can’t have our grandkids on our lap or they’ll tip our wheelchair over. You know what I mean.
I know that if I don’t choke on an olive at dinner tonight leaves the possibilty(not set in stone) of not being able to do things with others later because of the road this disease may take me down. And so, I have to make a choice. In spite of the pain, loss of movements, tiredness and everything else that can come with a chronic illness – do I say forget it and give in to that dying spirit or choose to endure through the pain and whatever else and keep fighting this thing?
I choose to fight.
There are some of you who may not be so sure today. That is what prompted this post. Somebody may feel like giving up, giving in. Please don’t. If you don’t have the strength to fight emotionally, write me, leave a comment, message me on Facebook. Something. You are not in this alone. I will fight with you. I will fight for you. I’ve been there in the dark place and fighting is so much better because even in the pain, life is precious.
Journeying with you,