You know what’s hard? Staying present. Staying with unknowing. Staying with the space between no longer and not yet.

In order to be in the present moment, in my present circumstances, I have visualized myself being in a hallway. The door behind me holds the room of the past. The door in front is the room of the future. I’ve given myself a comfy chair to sit myself down in and wait.

In 1989 I met a redneck, a man with big energy, with a big heart, big enough to hold me and my four-year-old son in his love. You know him as the Codfather and Santa. He has been my husband for over thirty years and tells me I’m an Armstrong by contamination! Being an Armstrong has helped me to find my own strength, my own voice, able to stand up to his big energy and explain that my way, different from his, was equally valid. He says I ‘hippyfied’ him! We grew each other up.

In February, when I was no longer able to provide the care he needed, he moved into Long Term Care (LTC). This is the first time we have lived apart and it is damn hard for both of us. And it’s doubly hard because he wants to be that strong hunter, fisher, logger guy again. He wants to come home. Our roles are in flux. We are adrift.

When he says he’s going to get out of LTC he means he’s remembering what it was like when he was working, reveling in his physical being. He would run up the ramp at the dock, run up Rainbow Hill and run into the house, grab me up in a huge bear hug and tell me how much he missed me. He still tells me he misses me. Goodness knows I’m missing him.

Jack is fading, releasing his physical energy slowly, still looking after me by letting his energy ebb slowly from me too. There’s the blessing.

Here’s another analogy. We made a jigsaw puzzle together. Now we are taking it apart bit by bit. Those pieces are the laughter, the fights, the compromises, the adventures, the memories, the celebrations, the tough times and the good times. Those pieces aren’t lost. They are being lov-ingly placed in a heart-shaped box called Life.

When I see Jack I want to be present to who he is now. I want to hold his hand and carve into my memory the weight of it, that feeling of connection. I want to make this time fun. We still razz each other and laugh. There are deep wells of joy in our togetherness. He can still encourage me, listen without fixing (who says you can’t teach an old dog!), impart his huge knowledge of fishing skills and tease and joke.

One more thing I want to share. Helping someone to feel seen, heard, and understood is the loudest way to love them. The gift is in the present.

Here’s a thought

Run away

Just for a moment

Simply run away

Focus on the tea you are making

The sandwich, the blanket you are folding

Be aware of the light you are holding.

Run away

To the bathroom, the back porch, to the chair beside them as they sleep

Run away

And then return

Come back, come home

Be present

Take their hand

Seek their eyes

Find the love

And rest there.