After months of not sleeping more than a few hours a day my father slept 12 hours with only a few brief interruptions. I took comfort listening to him sleeping deeply and started to smile– then at the same moment I began worrying that my happiness might be short lived.
After months of sadness, I felt joy. The feeling rose quickly within me and I caught myself wanting to guard my moment of happiness. Could this be a sign that he is healing? Oh miracle! Oh wonder! Oh incredible life! Then at the same time a voice within me tried to hold down my happiness. Warning me to be careful, to look objectively, to LOOK at the whole picture and not just his first restful night in months as anything extraordinary.
Have you ever felt that way? Scared to believe in the moment because you doubt it could be true?
Do you ever have these dialogs inside yourself? One voice saying one thing and another voice saying another thing, and at the same time yet another voice that seems like a referee in the middle?
Well, those inner voices went on and on and finally a small voice within me stood up and said:
"Live the moment."
And with that I let the joy flood my soul and pour out into the room, surrounding my father’s bed and gushing out whatever way it wanted to go. I let it flow- and the energy was uplifting, healing and by far better than worrying about if it meant anything other that what it was:
Joy in the moment.
I decided to dedicate tomorrow’s post to color, to happiness, to the signs of spring, to everything I have held at bay; because I have been walking carefully around my father’s illness cautious to believe in any sign of hope.
My father is here. He is breathing. He is sleeping peacefully. He seems to be healing and although there is a long and uncertain road ahead of him he seems to take it as it comes…one moment at a time….
He slept well and that is something to be very happy about. Regardless what it might or might not mean.
Photo: A mural in Pompeii.
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