The Slow Burn…

A topic that comes up with others – am I grateful that I have had my chance to say goodbye, or would I rather that my death would have come without warning?

I don’t know that I could answer that one consistently, there are many days that I believe that it would have been much easier on myself and my daughter had I had a quick and fatal heart attack. Goodness knows that my heart keeps unsuccessfully testing out that game strategy.

There are days that the suffering for both she and I can be unbearable. Trying to make the most of our days together, yet me being so limited in my energy and mobility making it all that more difficult to forget that which always hangs over our head.

Knowing that my time is limited, this is not how I would choose to spend this time with her. I’d have taken her travelling, to all the places I promised I would when she was small. We’d be zipping around the city together, visiting whatever restaurants caught our fancy. We’d go to the movies, we’d entertain our friends. We’d drive into the country far away from the city lights on summer nights to watch the meteor showers, laying on our backs anxiously waiting for a chance to wish upon a falling star. We’d chase the northern lights. How could I have lived in Winnipeg for two years and not noticed them? It was a time long ago when I didn’t yet appreciate the wonders around me.

What I wouldn’t have chosen is for her to be here day in, day out looking after my every need. My heart breaks for her, every morning I wake up it starts to hurt all over again.

This morning we had quite a fright. A small electrical fire here in bed that could have had dire consequences had we not been awake at the time.

Had I been on my own this morning, things may not have turned out as they did. Suzanna’s quick thinking, and ability to move much faster than I can saved the day.

As much as I’m overwhelmingly relieved that Suzanna was unharmed and our neighbours were spared danger, the experience awakened in me a deep sadness today in being reminded that more suffering still lies ahead for both of us.

When Suzanna comes home tonight from a visit with her father, she’ll snuggle and as always tell me how much she loves me. A big part of me will be wishing that my body would just let go and allow her to get on with the rest of her life. I’d think it far from selfish if she were wishing for the same, a chance to bring this chapter to a close and no longer live on this tightrope.