He eases himself off the chair and she waits, poised to steady him if he needs. She helps him into his coat and waits patiently as he insists on zipping it up himself. She stays behind him as they go out the door into the strong, cold wind and slows her strides so as not to rush him. Her own coat remains open to the elements since all her focus is on him and his needs. She stands at the car holding open his door so it doesn’t slam against him as he maneuvers himself into the seat and struggles with the buckle. She smiles at him and his efforts while the bitter winter wind slashes the snow against her face. Only when he is securely in the car does she make her way around to the driver’s seat and finally receives refuge from the storm.
I watch transfixed in amazement at the pure, tender, and patient love I don’t know if I will ever be able to provide.
They’re both in their mid-70s and leaving the physical therapist’s office where he is being treated for after stroke rehabilitation and she gets work done on her knees. Husband and wife. Living out those vows of in sickness and in health. For better or worse.
I’m writing this as I sit in the waiting area of our hospital’s surgery center. Waiting for my husband as he undergoes reconstructive surgery on his hand after a run-in two weeks ago with a table saw. He hasn’t had anything to eat for 14 hours and when he snapped at me for the third time in less than 5 minutes on the way to the hospital this morning, I couldn’t help but think of that couple at the physical therapist’s office. This is not our first medical emergency together. Nor our second. It’s not even our fourth. Nor is it the worst we’ve been through.
For worse. For poorer. In sickness. We’ve seen those much more frequently and more memorably than the better, rich, or health.
We said those words in our wedding ceremony and believed in the ideals. Those two kids in pretty clothes and no gray hairs thought they had already experienced a lifetime of ups and downs and were confident in what they were saying. How blissful arrogant ignorance is.
My mother battled cancer for three years before it finally took her life. During that battle she took her frustrations, fear, and pain out on my father and would snap at him just for breathing. I would apologize to him on her behalf and he would stop me. “Pard, I have no idea even half of what she’s going through so if she needs to take it out on someone, I am happy to be able to do that for her. I can’t do anything else to help her through this.”
We plan and prepare for this life with someone. We pick out rings, plan a ceremony, buy stuff together, build families of 2 or 20. For better. For richer. In health. We map out roads, make dreams, go through our day-to-day monotony. But in the blink of an eye, it can all change. An accident. A diagnosis. A realization. And now here we are having to live out the other side of those vows.
When I’m dealing with a hangry and pained husband, I wonder if I will ever have the strength of the wife of that stroke patient or the caregiver of an Alzheimer’s sufferer or accident victim. But somehow, every time I find the ability to love beyond my own power and give more than I knew I had. Because when you do build a life with someone and love them, you want the best for them. And if they don’t already have it at their fingertips, you want to be able to grab it for them no matter what it takes.
*** NOTE: There is a humungous difference between these instances of selfless love and abuse. Nothing anyone is going through or vows that are made will ever make physical or emotional abuse something that should be allowed, tolerated, or lived with.
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