I posted this on FB a while back but apparently, between the LOL cats and dancing Chihuahuas people weren’t really ready for it so it got a very chilly response.
Screw that. Its from the heart, and its part of life. I could write the same piece from a new-born’s POV and no one would bat an eyelash. Life is a cycle and it goes around and around and around and comes back around and around and around.
I am dedicating this to my wonderful wife Denise on her birthday.
– Al-Vis 7/6/2013
(c) 2013 AlvisRocks.com
I hear her coming in now.
She’s here the same time every day. Just a little while after the doctor comes in.
She comes over to me and mops my forehead, then kisses it. Then she sits down beside me and holds my hand for a while.
Her lips feel the same to me now as they did all those years ago. The same as they did after that first date, a movie at the mall. I walked her to her parents’ doorstep, then we kissed for the first time, just briefly, but long enough to last a lifetime.
She doesn’t know that her lips feel the same to me. I can’t tell her. I can’t talk to her anymore. I can’t move my arms to hug her any more. I can’t tell her I love her any more.
I felt those lips maybe hundreds of thousands of times over all those years. I hugged her and told her how much I loved her as many times too.
I even sang to her almost as many times. Every morning, at least. I can’t sing to her any more either.
If it bothers her she doesn’t show it. She always smiles at me when she first sees me. I try to smile back but I can’t feel my mouth form a smile.
She made me smile nearly as many times also over all those years.
After she sits with me a while she talks to me. She tells me how her day before went, which is usually not much different than the day before that or the day before that at this point. Sometimes she has news of our relatives- my sister or my nieces or nephews or hers. Not often though.
Then after an hour or so (at least it feels like just about that long), she adjusts my bedclothes, talks to the nurses for a few minutes, then comes over to me and hugs me. She doesn’t know that I can feel her hugging me. I can’t hug her back any more.
She doesn’t seem as happy as she leaves, but she tries to smile anyway. She looks into my eyes. She doesn’t know that I can see her look into my eyes, but I can.
Shes been doing this for a least a few hundred days. Maybe even a year or more.
When I first got here I could still talk to her a little, and I could still hug her. She would ask me how they were treating me and I would try to tell her, but after a while I just stopped trying. It was just too hard to talk.
And now I don’t talk at all. I know I move my eyes a little because I can look around, but I can’t feel my body move.
If I could talk to her, this is what I would tell her:
“Please don’t cry. I’m not too unhappy. I had a great life, and you made it the best life anyone could ever had. God has a plan. God is almost ready for me. Maybe I can’t talk because I’ve nothing left to say;maybe I can’t put my arms around you because you were already cherished and loved more than any person who ever lived. I still cherish and love you but maybe I don’t need to show it anymore. I don’t know why, like I said, God has a plan.”
I would tell her that if I could but I can’t. I can’t write it either. But somehow I think she will know it someday. someday I think God will make the truth apparent to her- that all this caring for me and holding me and talking to me and sitting with me, while I sat here motionless, was not in vain. I hope God will let her find this out.