You see that mountain over there? That’s my dream. That’s where I put my faith on every night as I lay my head down on my pillow and pray. Every morning I wake up and look down at my body. Nope, nothing’s changed. I still can’t move.
I look at my legs and they feel frozen in the bed. Sort of like being cemented to a bed post. A tear drips from my eye as I try to move my fingers; but they won’t. My nose itches, but no one knows it.
I look up and I see your smiling face enter my room. I see the glistening in your eyes, but you won’t admit you have been crying. You gently wash my face and hair. You turn me over and wash both sides. You do all this with the gentleness of love. I love you so much my wife. I so wish I could tell you. I will not complain with groans or moans. Will this help you see how much you mean to me?
You shave me the best you know how. You sprinkle talc on me and try to erase the smell of this illness. You leave my room and I see you once again wipe a tear from your eye. You enter with my breakfast. I don’t recognize my favorite food, eggs and bacon. You have a cup with you and I can see it is brown, but I don’t see the steam rising. I know you have pureed all my food and added a thickner to my coffee.
You turn the television on for noise in the background as the silence is thick and our thoughts mesh into one; but neither of us want to admit we both know I am dying. I see the effort you make into each day. Going about the business of what I used to help you do. Paying bills, getting groceries, babysitting the grandchildren. Above all; you don’t forget me. You always check to make sure I am dry and want for nothing.
When you make sure I am going to be fine for the night, I hear the bed springs as you collapse into bed at night. This is when I turn to my mountains. I pray for a cure. I pray for my release so that it may release you, my love. I appreciate all that you do; but you should not suffer from my lingering onto a nothingness.
I love you, my dear wife. You are the best.