Aging ain’t for sissies. Neither is grief. One can feel amazingly strong and rock solid in one moment and fall apart in the next. The fragility of my heart surprises me every single time the switch gets flipped.
As some of you may know, I have THE most awesome brother on the planet. He was born with cerebral palsy and has a resultant developmental disability. He is sweet, charming, funny, guileless. He lived at home with our mom until her unexpected death eleven years ago. He had never learned to do anything for himself. After mom died, he came to live near me in Colorado. He learned how to take care of himself and lives in as independent a setting as he can. He is my hero.
He is also aging…rather quickly. He is more frail and shuffles along with a laborious gait. It tugs at my heart strings. Nobody…not even my beloved Mr. Virgo…owns as big a chunk of my heart as my brother. I have always been his champion, his protector.
Night before last, I was chatting with a friend of mine in Florida. We were laughing our butts off about something so silly, we had tears rolling down our cheeks. We remarked how delightful it is to let loose and belly laugh till you cry. It’s good therapy. Then…I received a text from my ex-husband that my brother was in the hospital. I went from absolute high, to basement low in two seconds. It was such a shock to my system, I threw up. As it was happening, this analytical part of me was off to the side observing the whole situation with curiosity. How could the switch flip so quickly? I never used to react to situations so violently. I hate that feeling…anxiety and the loss of control. I’m usually good about reaching for my Rescue Remedy, which really does help. But for some reason, it didn’t even cross my mind last night. So I rode that dragon till the wee small hours before dawn. I must buy several tubes of the spray variety of this magical elixir and leave them everywhere so it’s easier to remember to use it. It doesn’t work when it sits in the bottom of my purse.
As it turns out, my brother just had a bad GI bug and they kept him over night. They gave him fluids and medications to stop the GI distress and he came home yesterday afternoon. He sounded good, but tired. It breaks my heart to watch him decline. It reminds me of the fragility of life. My ex is a doctor and says I should begin mentally preparing myself for the possibility of making a difficult decision regarding life support. I hate the thought, but it’s something we all must consider at some point, I suppose. For now, I will focus on the love I can offer those who own a piece of my heart.
❤