This is the next in a series of excerpts from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life.
I learned something yesterday—something in a new way, anyhow.
That dream—the one about God warning me when something is wrong with Dave—it meant nothing.
Yesterday, while I was in Madison at the spa and shopping, Dave went PT and ended up in the ER, and I had no inkling that anything was wrong. Granted, he only needed fluids again, but he had to manage on his own while I was off having fun.
So I get powerful feelings when nothing is wrong and none at all when something is. So God gives me a thousand gifts, but not intuition. I can’t depend on feelings or inklings.
What do I do with that? I’m not sure. It feels, in my circumstances, like a handicap. What can I do? Accommodate. Guess. Assume I won’t know and try to arrange things to keep us all out of danger, keep us both safe.
It turned out to be nothing and Dave was fine, or as fine as he gets these days, but still... What does love demand of me?