Hopes For A Peaceful Anniversary

I am irradiated, but not glowing. I have a head cold. I'm tired and cranky. BUT..... 

72 years ago, in a borough far, far away, there was a wedding:

November 3rd, 1943

I guess there aren't too many couples out there who get to celebrate 72 years together. Sure, my folks had their moments but now, the best they can do is hold hands in the night while Mom hopes for a moment or two of a lucid Dad. 

I wish their living at Sholom Home's nursing/hospice side wasn't such a day-to-day challenge for all of us. My father is slowly fading away, living mostly in his head, going to the morning production meeting at Blum where he give still gives orders for the gluers and the pressmen. Yesterday he knew the Mets dropped game 4 in the World Series, but today, I'm not so sure he understood that KC beat his beloved Mets to a pulp and took the series in 5 games. 

Mom is already grieving the loss of the man my Dad was. The moments of presence are fewer and fewer...and easier to miss because he is so quiet. There is such sadness and resignation in her voice when she tells me how the day went. It's rarely a good day. The challenges of living in a nursing home are myriad and all-too-often frustrating for her, for me, and even for Dad. We are all exhausted.

But for the moment, he is still in the land of the living. He has not gone to Aunt Ruthie's....where I'm positive everyone is waiting for the rest of us at the perennial party. I try to make the most of the moments he's in the present, and I encourage Mom to keep telling him how much she loves him. When he's in the moment, he tells me he's hanging on for Mom. In turn, Mom whispers she has to hang on for him. I wonder if either one can ever let go.

"Happy Anniversary" seems oddly insufficient. Instead, I want to wish them "Peaceful Anniversary."

The Wifely Person's Tip o'the Day

The older you get, the more precious the gift of time.