Today my husband taught me how to live again.
Having spent 2010 in and out of the hospital has left me in a constant state of fear. Fear the kids are suffering. Fear he is suffering. Fear of being a burden. Fear of dying. Fear of living as a sick person. Fear of not being able to work. Fear of not being able to … fill-in-the-blank…
So, as he does, our patriarch made an example of himself and jumped out of an airplane.
If you know him, and know us, this works perfectly. Despite my usual bravado, I rely on my best friend and partner in life to keep me grounded. He knew this terrified me, despite the two of us having jumped together before. He knew I was terrified something would go wrong. And why wouldn’t it? EVERYTHING has gone wrong in 2010. Tempting fate with a skydive seemed like asking for trouble.
But he stood firm. And I stood tall. Gifting him the jump for his birthday to show I would support him, even if I was against it. That I would make sure he got his jump, even if it was the last thing I wanted him to do. After all, we do things for those we love that we might not do otherwise. We want to make them happy. We want to give them everything their heart desires. We want them to have it all- regardless of our own feelings.
I have proof of that laying next to me right now. My sweet puppy that came into our lives this year during the worst of times. The dog he swore I’d never have. The dog I so desperately wanted but knew I’d never get, because he really did not want one. The dog that sits here now, snuggled against my side, wet nose on my knee.
I’d do anything to make this man happy. He’d do anything to make me happy.
So off to the airport we went. And out of the plane he fell. On the ground I fretted. And fussed. And fidgeted.
And then…nothing went wrong.
You took my organs. You took my confidence. You took my livlihood. You took my sanity. You took my normalcy. You nearly took my life.
It’s over. You are done.
I’m still here. I’m taking everything back…keep the organs. Think of them as my parting gift of a bloodied year that tested us in every way imaginable. But it’s ok…
I am going to live again.
Thank you, Aaron, for reminding me how to live. How to live with meaning, with fun, and without fear.