Wash is on his last chemo cycle for the year. Hoo-rah. However, he went all crazy about it about a week ago so I've been dealing with him for a while... my patience has not been the best this week. I get frustrated when he freezes up and says anything he can to fill the space. Most of the time he lies. I know it's part of the cancer. Part of the surgery. Part of everything that is wrong and inhuman about brain cancer. I hate myself for it too. I hate that I still hurt when he lies like that, and I know he's not even aware of it happening... it still hurts. He is not doing it on purpose, and I honestly think he doesn't even know half of what his brain makes him do or say.
I still hate thinking about the future. I had an idea this week, something that I've put feelers out on and something that could grow into my own personal business in a year. Something that I could do and be happy about. It's wonderful, and still painful to think on.
When we married we exchanged parts of ourselves with each other. So, it feels like there is a part of me that is dying along with him. I don't know really if I can live another 40 years being happy with a half heart. Maybe.
The cup overflows and I am still stuck looking for where the liquid is coming from!
When I first met him there was a resonance between us. After he dies, it will be a slowly fading echo of a sound. Of a feeling, his touch. How long before I forget what his voice sounded like? Or how his hugs felt?
How do we quantify the time spent or lost with someone?
Existence continues on. Time does not stop; though in theory it could move around. He matters to me. He exists as I recall... but even I know it's a facsimile of an echo.
Despite the overtones, I have been cheery. We got the tree lit. The kittens continue become less aggressive toward each other and more friendly and cuddly. Leto still tries to groom Aelphie when he catches her asleep.
Life is stable right now. Is that good enough?
I have to think, it hurts so much because I love him so much.