Waiting!

Fifty years ago this Christmas I was waiting; waiting for the new life that I had just learned was growing within me. And it was a death; a death for me and for everything I had known all my life, everything that mattered most to me and for any hopes and dreams I might have had for the future. The future looked dark indeed and without hope.

The man who was responsible for shattering my life had given me a German record as a Christmas gift. It was German folk music I was interested in; he gave me 'Weltschmerz' by Mahler; very appropriate and I've never been able to stomach Mahler since. Yesterday I listened to a trumpet player, my granddaughter's band teacher, play a Mahler piece at a noon hour concert in a beautiful old church with a pipe organ and marvelous stained glass windows. Mahler, he said, was one of his favourite composers. Maybe it's time to lay aside old prejudices and try again.

And this Christmas, I wait again. This time, I am waiting for death, and a future that promises a new life. My husband of more than 46 years is slowly slipping away from us. He hardly recognizes or acknowledges us anymore, has become a shadow of himself, and is tired unto death. When that long sleep comes that will give him rest, we will miss him but we are ready to let him go. Perhaps on the other side, there's a new life for him too. We hope so.

Fifty years is a long time to put your life on hold. I wanted to write, travel, meet people, have new experiences, sing, dance, enjoy life and spend many relaxed hours with friends, laughing and visiting. My husband's people didn't laugh very much and seemed to be suspicious of those who did. So be it. There are just the two of them left now who don't and won't talk to each other. The choices we make when we're young, haunt us when we're old.

My journey through life was not one I would have chosen, but the place at which I have arrived pleases me. I am glad to find myself where I am and who I am. What more can anyone hope for?