#16, May 11, 2015, What I Fear

This is the next in a series of excerpts from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life.

Reading today about peace and the impossibility of finding it here on earth—hunger, illness, sin—and the list of what plagues us is a lot longer. Dreamed last night about Harriet, Beth’s grandmother, and woke feeling like she had died. It feels like a test of whether God will give me a sense of fear when Dave is in danger.

What I’m looking for is someone I know will look out for me—rescue me when I can’t help myself. I can only do so much. I need to know God is there—know in a quantifiable way—need to see Him acting. Otherwise, I am truly alone. I am more afraid of this than anything else.

image:jeremysaid.com

#15, May 10, 2015, Underwater

This is the next in the series of excerpts from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life:

 Mothers’ Day. 

I was reminded this week for the first time in a long time of all the pain this day used to cause. It’s still there if I reach for it. An echo of it hangs on, but time and grace have brought healing. 

Grace. What the woman at the wine walk called Beth and I. Beauty and Grace. I’ve never been paid a finer compliment by a stranger. 

These days are so beautiful—nights still cool, but I can leave the windows open. 

Dave struggles, though. When days either bring the rain or the promise of it, he breathes as though he’s underwater—heavy and labored. As a result, he’s always tired. I should have expected this, but didn’t. Summer will be hard for him. He’ll have to stay in air conditioning all the time. So grateful we have it.

image; kingofwallpapers.com

#14, May 3, 2015, Open Windows

This is the next in a series of excerpts from my journal, written during the last year of Dave's life.

Slept late last night with open windows. This year’s first. Woke to a gentle breeze and birdsong. The chimes’ soft ringing. Have been waiting for this and it’s so beautiful

.

Dave is getting better, feeling a bit stronger. I don’t know how long it will last—it feels like a last gift and I’m going to try to enjoy it like one.

Went to the movies and early dinner with Bryan yesterday. Talking about short trips to Decorah and Davie’s. Also thinking that when the time comes, I will not be able to burn him, to cremate what is left of him. I just can’t.

image: flickr.com