It is getting late. It has been an uneventful day but it is a day that I will never forget...July 4, 2014. Today I lost the diamond from my engagement ring. We have searched all over the house and we found NOTHNG! It is gone. I am a believer in signs. You know the kind of signs that I am talking about? Like the verse in the Bible that says:
"Unless you people see signs and wonders," Jesus told him, "you will never believe." John 4:48. I think that I have been sent a sign. I don't want to interpret it. I don't want to think about it. But I am being prepared. These signs have come to me at other times in my life, but I will save those for other posts. Today I am on to Lisa Jo Baker's 5 Minute Friday. Where a group of us write, uninterrupted, unedited, without too much thought on a prompt that she provides. And then we share with each other. Today the prompt is:
Almost three years ago on September 16, 2011, sitting at the dinner table, my husband suffered a stroke. I knew it immediately. I called for help. He stopped breathing in the ambulance on the way to the hospital and was on a respirator by the time I arrived. But we were able to give him TPA, which really reduced the severity of the symptoms of the stroke. That is the day that I took a really deep breath.
And I haven't let it all the way out yet.
He came home from the hospital after going through rehab and he even threw away the walker and was pretty self-sufficient again. He just had no short term memory. He read the paper three times a day forgetting that he had read it each time.
Then in December 2012 he again had an episode and quit walking. In March of 2013, he stopped breathing one day. When my brother and I threw him back into the chair he started breathing again. But I have never exhaled. Just a bit at a time. I just keep holding onto my breath. I know that it is coming. The day is in the nearer future. It is no longer very far away. It will come.
That will be the day that I will finally exhale. Because there will no longer be anything that I can do. He will go home. His pain will end. His new life will begin. I will exhale.