As physicist, for one thing. This life no longer is held in his mind.
As athlete, for another. He no longer tries to walk because the nerves have stopped sending the necessary signals, and in response the muscles yawn and take their rest.
What remains is the best. It's Rich, refined, growing into a peace unseen in weeks and months as the battleground shifts from "beating it" to "bearing it" and letting the chordoma carry him into the land where bullshit ends and life begins.
"Thank you for a great life," I say, sitting in the Hospicare gardens with the sun beaming on us.
"Life is meant to be great," he says.
At this moment, there are no other possibilities.
Candace
3 comments:
Wow, Candace, what a positive image, sun, garden, and the best.
I am so glad you two have this time together.
I'm learning much from you, how when we strip away the stuff that takes up so much of our lives -- work, physical upkeep -- what's left is whoever we really are. And in Rich's case, this is a golden core.
It's a good reminder to me to live in such a way that I've got a golden core that remains, too, when all the rest is gone.
And all the rest will be gone for all of us someday. You make it sound like something to look forward to. Thank you for that.
With great love for you both from Aachen, Heather
A week has gone by. I hope that no new updates means that life has been great, as it is meant to be.
Thinking of you constantly,
Heather
Candace,
My prayers go out to you and your husband. When his time comes to cross over, I hope you will both feel at peace. I realize it's easier to say that than it is to feel it under such circumstances, but I do wish you the best.
I am a fellow chordoma patient and know that someday I will be in Rich's condition. Between now and then I try to enjoy life, family and friends as much as possible. Google sends me a "chordoma email alert" whenever anything is posted online about chordomas, so I see your posts often.
Don't forget to take care of yourself too.
God bless you,
LaDonna
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