Sunday, November 2, 2008

Tears for Fears

The other night D was asleep and I was watching one of our favorite TV shows on DVD. In the show the main character has been widowed after her husband suddenly died after a heart attack. She is still relatively young and all of the sudden alone. In this particular episode the last scene shows her sitting on the floor of her bedroom watching a video tape of her and her late husband together and crying. 
I am usually unmoved by even the most heart wrenching movies, but that night, watching a fictional character cry I suddenly understood exactly what she was feeling. She had lost her partner, she was alone, she was scared, it's hard to explain, but I felt not only sad for her, but also fearful of one day doing exactly what she was doing. Sitting on the floor crying, not knowing what to do without my partner. I started crying and looked back at D, peacefully asleep. I though about it for a minute and decided my tears were tears of fear. I was afraid of losing him. I was afraid of his disease taking him away.
But then I realized that for one half of every partnership loss is just a fact of life. We will lose the ones we love. And it will always be too soon. We are never promised another second  in life, but we all seem to take for granted the blessing of every breath we take, every moment we enjoy. One day I will lose D, or he will lose me. You never know. He could get sick, or die in a car crash. He may outlive me by years and years. I could find out I have terminal cancer, or get hit by a bus. None of us, healthy or well, are promised more than this moment we are in. 
Once I realized that I stopped crying, not because I wasn't afraid anymore, but because I realized something. The saddest part of the show for me was that her husband died suddenly. She had no warning and no idea what to do afterwards. She wasn't ready. She had taken for granted that he would be there always.
D and I have not been afforded the luxury of allowing ourselves to think there will be an always. His diagnosis has reminded us of just how precious and fragile life is. With today's modern medical treatments it is very likely that D may well outlive me, but he may not. I may eventually  lose him one day to his disease, or maybe tomorrow he won't make it home from work. Who knows, I may even just lose him to a failed relationship. I may never lose him at all, He may be the one to lose me. There are just no promises, save the one I made myself at that moment. I will not take for granted what we have. I will enjoy every second we are given. I will not allow little things to ruin otherwise happy moments and I will hope for a very long time together, but live every moment like it might be the last we ever share.
I wiped away my tears, turned off the TV and crawled into bed. I didn't sleep for a long time, I just laid there enjoying his warmth, his smell, the peaceful expression he wears when he sleeps just barely visible in the light leaking through a crack in the bedroom door. I cuddled up next to him and was grateful for every moment we have been given and for the one I was enjoying. I eventually I fell asleep content in knowing that while most of us will lose our partners one day many will have taken for granted that time they spent together and realize how much of it was wasted, but I have been lucky in being reminded that I may only have today and I will make the best of it.