Blog 2434 – 06.24.2022
“Some say love it is a razor that leaves your soul to bleed…I say, love it is a flower and you it’s only seed.” I have since I was a young boy appreciated the beauty of roses and of lines of poetry made into song. The incomparable Bette Midler made famous today’s song and it has long been a Karaoke favorite.
I have no illusions of being a great writer nor of being a great singer, but these are high goals for which I still aim. It is good to have goals and even at almost seventy-two I still have a few. Last year about this time when my wife and I received our joint tax refund I put my half in a special joint checking account that I referred to as our Paris Fund. For years we have talked about seeing Paris together.
In early February just a couple of months after I was finally able to retire from being a traveling contract inspector after my wife after suffering a bout with shingles experienced a scary mental break and spent several weeks in three different hospitals where they could not find the root cause nor offer a lot of hope that she would ever return to her baseline behavior.
A few days before our son was born on April 3rd, 1990 my dad had a mild stroke so my parents were unable to make a trip from Chattanooga to Houston to see there new grandson right away. Dad recovered quickly and seemed the same to us, but Mom who spent the greater part of her life with him said he was never again the same.
My wife no longer talks about seeing Paris. Even a twenty-five minute drive to see her sister who lives in Spring, Texas still seems a journey too far, one we may never take again together. We ate out together in a fast food place a few blocks from home for the first time since February a few days ago. As we drove back home I told her I was proud of her because she had been so scared. She had said what will we do if something goes wrong and I have to leave while we are there and I assured her that we would leave straight away if she wanted to, that I would be happy to bring home take out from now on if she did not feel like going inside a restaurant ever again. She asked me not to share the story of eating out with her sister or family because they would think she was ready to go further. She is not and may never be.
Our trip to Paris is on hold and may never happen or I may end up seeing Paris alone later. A little of the Linda I have always known is no longer here and I see her not getting better so much as slipping slowly away. That I suppose is true of all of us. At our age especially it seems as if so many people that we have grown up and older with are no longer around.
I am in no hurry for Linda to take the next big step in the Circle of Life nor am I myself. We still hope to hold a grand baby or two and watch them learn to walk and talk. That too may not be in the cards for one or both of us. But I planted two rose bushes in our front yard and try to see that they and other flowers are always blooming for my lovely Linda, my beloved Rose.
I believe that there is another life beyond this one and another and another, and I try to “just remember in the winter far beneath the bitter snow lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring becomes the rose.”
Your friend and fellow traveler,
P.S. We will always have Paris.