Wednesday, May 3, 2017

Sorry Peaches

This morning, I was doing some potting in the back yard and noticed that the oleander bush on the hillside was huge and had encroached on our small peach tree, which is close to it. So I decided to prune the oleander back a little.

I was working away, and my husband was keeping me company, "working" alongside me. Too late, I realized that he had removed several fruit-bearing branches from the peach tree. Happily, he didn't hurt himself; however, there will be very few peaches this year. (They are extremely juicy, sweet, and delicious peaches. This will be a privation difficult to bear.)

In the scheme of things, this is not a big deal; however, it's just one of a long string of daily occurrences that are a constant reminder to me that so much has been lost. Our life is a dim reflection of what it used to be. Our relationship roles have changed dramatically. Where, in true partnership, I once bore responsibility for some things and he for others, the onus is now all on me for every decision.

Seven years from diagnosis down the road, the weight of it all is sometimes difficult to bear. And there's a long way to go.

3 comments:

  1. I understand your post all too well at the end of the 7th year of my husband Rod battling his head and neck cancer it hit me one day almost in thought as you have put into words that my beautiful husband was a shadow of his former self and like you our day-to-day existence depended on me completely.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Hi, Shar! I remember well your posts during that difficult season and how my heart ached for you. On days when I'm well rested, it's so much better than on days when sleep has eluded me. And (as you know) sleep becomes a precious commodity under these circumstances. Bless you!

    ReplyDelete
  3. My husband is 82; I am 78 , or soon will be. We are at the point where he still makes decisions...and sometimes forgets them. He hates to travel very far from home, and relies on me to guide him. Sometimes the water is left running in the sink, sometimes a bill isn't paid, but we continue as before. I call this the "in-between time".... N

    ReplyDelete