It seems that every few months I creep in here, and take a look around. Then flee away too do other things. I really don't want to give anything much thought and it has kept me from writing here in my little space.
What does one say or report too others. That much has not changed. That I feel worn, and at times depressed.
Who would have thought that sixteen years would have passed by so fast. Since that day that Jim was told he was ill. Who would have thought that he would even still be alive? I remember all that we went through that first year, and my thinking. That I needed to get my life in order, because I was very likely to be alone. Yet here we are sixteen years later and he is still with me. Not what I expected.
It feels as if I have been holding my breath all of this time. Waiting, and waiting for it all too end. Yet here we are still. Others would tell me too count my blessings, but watching him go through all of what he has gone through over these years it is almost more than I can endure. It is like the drip, drip of water upon a stone. Taking for ever to make even a difference. Yet watching him go from youthful to a shadow of himself.
Once a strong man, now a man who can not do much at all. Once a man with muscle and strength, all bone, and hanging skin. Who labors so hard with each breath. I wonder how does he do it? How does he still believe that he will some how get better?
I know that all of the above is going on. Yet I hid as much as I can from myself. Immersing myself self in other things. Setting myself apart so that I do not feel the pain. Still every once in awhile I am forced too surface and face the realities of life.
Life goes on. Things need too be done. Lawns mowed, trips too the store, all of the everyday things that must be taken care of in our lifer's. When he takes his shirt off, I can't help but look away. When I see him in his bath. I want too look away. Who is this man that is in my house? Where did he come from? This is not my Jim. The one I loved, fought with, and raised children. Yet I know that it is him and it breaks my heart.
So I turn my head and I immerse myself in other things. Because not too do so it way too painful.
Ros
