Trails End --

I started writing this story in 2008.  My plan was to keep everybody updated on what was going on with Marty.  Many of her friends, our friends, were not aware of what was happening so I thought I would keep everyone informed.

Like so many things the blog evolved and became my guide and a way for me to get my own head around what was happening in our life, what was happening to us.

I wanted a record of our journey for me, for our kids and for our grand-kids.  It sort of kept me sane as I was able to process the joys and heartbreak of caring for my bride after the strokes.  Writing became a catharsis and a way for me to understand myself as Marty and I walked this rather bizarre trail.

The lessons I have learned doing this are endless and all of the things Marty taught me, some without me even knowing it (sneaky woman), are an ingrained part of my soul and I will always carry those lessons with me and I hope they have made me a better human being

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As I let this blog thing (though I prefer journal, it somehow sounds more sophisticated and God knows I’m at the apex of sophistication) die a natural death there are a couple of very basic learnings I want to leave with you. 

 

We all need to get our head around the idea that we will all of us will ultimately be care givers or care receivers in this life.  It is inevitable.  Society has developed so many ways to keep people alive that it is a near certainty we will all somehow experience the pain and joy of taking care of or being taken care of, it’s simply truth.  

Please know, you can and will do it.  It’s not heroic, it’s not amazing, it’s not selfless, it’s inevitable.  Humans have a remarkable way of evolving and adapting, history exists because humans adapted.  You can do it when the time comes, you will figure it out when the time comes, you will make the changes when the time comes and, trust me on this, you will find overwhelming anxiety and pain, and you will find amazing joy and grace.  It is just part of life and baby, somewhere in your inner self, you will find a way to make it work.  That’s what humans do.

I have always loved my bride.  There were times, before and after the strokes, I didn’t like her very much, but in my head and in my heart, I knew, I always loved Marty.  She really was one of my most interesting people, she really was one of the smartest people I knew.  She was, to quote our daughter, fierce.  

She was passionate, she was spontaneous, she had a fiery temper, and she loved like no other.  She respected neither rules nor boundaries, well maybe she sometimes respected them, mostly she simply disregarded them.  She would get in your business and be running it within 30 minutes of knowing you and the disturbing thing  was often she knew better than you how to run things.

She was one of kind, just like we all are, blessed with the grace of a loving God, we are all but children of a God who, regardless of what we do or where we go or what we believe, God’s grace will always embrace us.  That is what my friend Bob Moon taught me a long time ago in a very different life.

 

So, (so is kind a lazy way to start a sentence, oh well.) So, I found myself sitting on the next to the top step of our deck overlooking Richland Chambers Reservoir.  I sat there so I could lean my old back up against a step and really relax.  It was about 6:30 p.m. and the sun was bright and leaking through the oak trees, I could feel the warmth on the left side of my face. 

 

It wasn’t too hot as there was a light breeze gently coming off the lake with just a small tinge of cool. The lake was flat, it was quiet except for the airplane 30,000 feet above going to Houston.  I watched Sharon walking around the yard (Sharon is a dog by the way).  She eventually got tired of sniffing and made her over to sit beside me.  I closed my eyes, felt the Texas sun and the gentle breeze and listened to the quiet as I reached my hand and rested it on Sharon. 

If you need me, I think that’s where I’ll be.