We choose to deal with our pain a certain way. No one can judge us for that. And if other people don't understand, it's okay. Sometimes, we don't even want sympathy or empathy. Sometimes, what we truly want is to be left alone. Yes, even in our grief, we find space to be selfish.
There is no escaping the disease. Yes that is 100% true. Slowly but surely, it will run its course. Oh how I wish it won't, but even now, I can already see the stark difference. It's not just the physical deterioration, but it's also how it has already started scraping away at your soul. And how it has been chipping away at your resolve.
More than just robbing you of your health, the disease has started robbing you of the quiet dignity of growing old. It is an uncomfortable humiliation that no one should ever have to face. During those last few years, what do you cling to? Ideals? Or perhaps your identity? Most of it has already gone and you are left but a shell. It has already stripped you bare of everything that you were, and the person you used to be now only live in the memories of your loved ones, and of the people who knew you.
Realizing this fact alone is enough to make a grown man break down. To see something happening before your eyes yet remaining powerless to do anything. What can I do? I see the panic-stricken eyes that spell out fear more loudly than you can ever shout. No, you will never be able to shout. I feel the urgency in whatever weak grasp you have on my arm. I sense the frustration as you garbles out unintelligible words trying to get yourself to be understood. Everything's just become a cruel game of charades. A game that we can keep trying to play, but which we're sure to lose. It's hard to believe that the person I once knew is underneath all that.
It breaks my heart to see you smile, only because I know it doesn’t do justice to how you used to be. And every moment that you’re happy is tinged with sadness, because even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help but think how many of those we will have left.
Yes, there is no escaping the disease. But there is also no escaping the love. I see it in the little adjustments we make to make sure we spend the holidays together as a family. I see it in the effort Mama puts to make sure you are prepared and informed to make the decision, however difficult it may be. I see it in Brandon in the way he comes up to you and kisses you on the cheek.
But most of all, I see it in the way A-kim never fails to attend to you, to make sure that you are well-fed, that you are comfortable, and that you are given only the best. I'm sure she never saw this coming when she married you almost 50 years ago. Ever since your sickness started, the world as she knew it was obliterated and her whole world has suddenly started revolving solely around you. I cannot even begin to imagine how hard it must be for he to be the strong one in the relationship and how emotionally taxing it is to walk by your side on this journey. Yet she shows no signs of anger, nor does she complain about how unfair this situation is for her. She might have made a few misinformed choices and I might not necessarily agree with all her decisions, but I'm sure her intentions are pure. Wanting what's best for you every step of the way, I see her love expressed in the things she does for you, big and small.
It may be an imperfect kind of love, imperfect, but love nonetheless.
"Your love never fails. It never gives up. It never runs out on me."
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