The Sluggard

Well, I’ve managed to take the role of a sluggard today accomplishing basically nothing. The emotions of Bob and I have had momentary cracks when the latest news has slowly ebbed into our consciousness. Bob remembers one or two other friends that he would like me to contact. More and more people have sent emails or made calls to remind us of their love and support.

Stephanie et al came in this evening. It always brightens the spirit to have little feet rush down our halls. Those little arms give the best hugs ever. You can hear calls for Onnie and Oppie as excuses for bedtimes become apparent. A little spoiling never hurts. That’s the joy of being a grandma.

That handsome son-in-law came into town still dressed for school. He cuts a mighty fine fellow in all of his Notre Dame garb. I smile at visions of him teaching in one of the most highly recognized universities in the country.  What a perfectly sculpted family they make.

Although the news was far from a surprise, it surely has taken some of the wind from my sails. Will our lives go back to normal? Would we notice normal if it walked by? Would normal recognize us? I’m not too sure. What will our family room look like in another seven years?

Who do you like to surround you when you get some news? Do you like to surround yourself with loved ones or keep the news tucked quietly in your heart? We have other friends struck by dementia who have chose to keep their secret to themselves. I don’t know if that is by fear of this dreaded disease, the shame of having an illness, or the misconception that it might disappear if only kept hidden away. When do you decide to unlock some of the secrecy stored in your soul? What secrets do you have tucked away? To whom do you share?

Bob and I tend to let everything out. We could hardly be a reality TV family, but we are open in our travails and mountaintops. Everyone is different. Each family must remain strong in their beliefs no matter what should happen.

So life goes on. I’ll fill you in on my treasures tomorrow.