One week from today is husband's birthday. His 48th. He now has officially lived longer than his mother, uncles and grandfather. They all died before their 48th year. Will this be his last year? Who knows. Probably.
I thought a lot about this yesterday. I would catch my breath when I thought about it. It's a little scary think about.
As I sat outside this morning, espresso in hand, I thought back to when he could walk normal. Before the monster made his appearance. And, I couldn't remember how he walked. That bothers me. I try and try to think back when he was well.
I can't remember even the little things. Like walking. Driving. Working in the yard. Holding conversations. Eating. Talking on the phone. Dialing the phone.
It's all been taken from us. Everything. Our memories, our family life, our future. Everything. Gone.
I am left with what I am left with and there's nothing I can do. No magic pill can be taken to make it all go away.
This morning, as I think about it, with espresso in hand, I am bitter. Hey, I'm human. I need to have these bad days to learn and grow. Tomorrow may be different.
But, today, I'm bitter. It's just too much right now to think about.