Both Sweet And Bitter

"How do you do it, how do you live your life to the fullest?" Sean had come home from another day of fighting the corporate suits and wasting almost two hours at a sexual harassment seminar for his staff. Lola was watching Scooby Doo in the computer/sunroom and Gibby was pulling Newman's fur. Newman is our beloved nut less wonder, our knuckle head of a mix of a mutt, a faithful old boy, arthritic in his hind legs, slow moving, unless it's a cat or food situation. Sean had spoken to his mom on the way home. His Dad's birthday is today. He would have been 66. Tom died in March of 1999 from a rare blood leukemia. He was a school administrator, health nut, voracious reader, baritone voice of clarity, and had recently retired.

"Don't most men live until at least in their 70's? Your dad is going to be 70. How do I do it, how do I live my life to the fullest?" I looked at my husband of a young 42, not wanting to picture my life without him, not wanting his children to only have memories of him. He sat in his favorite patina-ed red leather chair in the living room, now holding Gibby in his lap. My mind searched for the soothing, comforting, balm to ease his worries, to erase a long weary day. I am the comforter, the soother, I absorb all worries.

"Maybe it's just to live in the moment, take pleasure in your children and remember that this day, this hour is so fleeting." We are so caught up in our day to day. It's human nature to always look ahead, to worry, to plan. All the time saving, scraping, plotting, climbing, crawling, biting, forcing our way to somewhere, somewhere, but where? What about the memories, the physical love to one another, where does that go? Does it rise to the air, evaporate and then blanket us in our final hours? Are each of us mindful we are weaving this tapestry of love to pull over our shoulders, to warm our children, to grasp onto when we have nothing else?

It's not an answer. It's not a solution. I hope to see and live my life by my own advice to my husband. It's hardly possible, yet do able. One day, one hour, one minute. Seeing life as a journey, a struggle, an adventure not to be lived alone but shared with those in our lives, those that complete our tapestry.