The Lesson From Gerry

I thought I would run out to Starbuck's this afternoon, for a quick latte, in the hopes that an espresso infusion would inspire me to get some blogging as well as my laundry done.

Well, I got to the top of my driveway, and a car was stopped there, waiting for the streetlight to change. The passenger door opens, and I see it is my old and dear Actress friend. She proceeds to tell me, across the driveway, that her husband passed away.

I had no idea.

So, I followed her home, and she told about his illness, which escalated quickly to the point of entering the Cleveland Clinic in hopes that a liver transplant would save his life. Sadly, his condition continued to decline, and my friend had to make the heartbreaking decision to let him go.

A few hours later, my friend's first granddaughter was born in Pittsburgh. My friend believes that her granddaughter, two weeks late, was holding on so that she would meet her grandfather as their spirits passed to and from this world. It is a beautiful thought.

While her husband was in the hospital but still conscious, my friend was a bit late getting to the hospital which meant that her husband filled out his own menu card. For breakfast he ordered fruit juice and lemon meringue pie, pretty much the worst thing for a diabetic. But it was a funny story - he was his own man to the very end, and he loved food. I am glad to think that he was taking some enjoyment, even from his hispital bed.

Which made me think of my mom, and how she would call me and tell me about the meals she was planning or looking forward to, or what she had at a restaurant. It was always the absolute worst choices she could have possibly made, but meals were really one of her few joys in life. And after a while, it occurred to me that it really was her life, and if she was content and happy in those moments, did it really matter that she was shortening her time here? Would it really have been better to deny herself these things for a few more months of life?

I think, in the end, foolish or not, the manner in which people treat their life has to be respected. We can't say what is right for anyone, expect for ourselves.