ready or not*

* I’ve learned, from Aaron and my father’s death and my mother’s graceful entrance into widowhood, that this is what being an adult is: doing everything before you are ready. There is no syllabus for life that helps your graduate to the next event. It is happening all around you, all the time. This life itself is the lesson and the test and there is no honor roll, just the sum of your relationships and actions and how you feel when you lay down to go to sleep at night.

I thought I was ready to say goodbye to Aaron. “It’s okay,” I told him, “I’ll be okay.” Every labored breath was truly work for his body. The pain of a brain tumor was so immense that he was on a list of narcotics I’d only heard about drug addicts using. 

The moment he was gone, I wasn’t ready anymore, and I was filled with a crippling sense of doubt. Was I good enough for you? Did I make this easy enough? Why did I get mad at you for forgetting garbage day??

I’m not ready for the big, empty space in our bed. I’m not ready to go to the Sleater-Kinney show without him. I’m not ready to watch The Walking Dead or to tell a bright, inquisitive toddler that his papa is in his heart, not in our bedroom sleeping. 

I’m not ready, but I learned how to reconnect our AppleTV. I changed the filter on our furnace and cleaned our dehumidifier. I booked a trip to Lutsen, Minnesota, our anniversary destination, even though he won’t be sitting beside me in the front seat, criticizing my music choices and my driving. 

I’m not ready for a world where my father and Aaron aren’t here, where Ralph doesn’t have a new sibling arriving in April. But that’s the world I have and that is LIFE: ready or not, here it comes. Exactly as it wants to.

A história conta-se em duas linhas, um grande amor abruptamente interrompido pela doença. O blog, conta-nos mais, muito mais, uma deliciosa história de amor e companheirismo, de luta e morte e por fim sobrevivência de um amor que perdurará mesmo depois da partida. Um blog para sorrir e chorar. Aqui.