I looked out this morning on dry ground and bright sunshine, then looked at the calendar. Five years ago, the acute care facility said they could do no more for my husband, and prepared to send him to a hospice center. Since, they told me, I could not take care of him myself. Obviously I took this as a challenge and the next day he was delivered to the front room, to stay on a hospital bed for the next three months. Looking out at the land he loved. I’m not saying this to ask for pity or praise, merely dredging up memories, and wondering if it’s time to put them away. To move on.
Is it ever time? How long do we wallow in memory before we move on? Wow that was kind of severe. Have I been wallowing? Might be. Just might be that I’ve been holding myself back from whatever it is I need to accomplish. Maybe the slow but steady progress in the garden, with writing, with the dogs, shows me I’m ready to move on?
Or maybe I don’t need to specifically move on, but I do need to make room for the present and the future. That sounds good. I’ve managed to finish and publish books since then. Managed to make it to meetings, judge dog shows. Write more books. I think he would have liked that…he enjoyed telling people about his wife the writer, the judge, the delegate.
For once I’m not going to dredge up an old song. If I did it would be memories, from CATS. He really liked that song, and the show. But, yeah, I’ll share some pictures. How can one live in a place like this, with dogs like these, and NOT share pictures? So, yeah, here’s one of him and one of the dogs. Enjoy. And if you have someone of your own, give them a hug for me. Thanks.