Time stands still and I want to march forward. If I don’t stand still, none of this is happening. If I keep moving, if I keep a smile on my face a family, friends and hospice workers arrive, none of this is happening.
So what could possibly be the unwanted blessing of the fractured foot? There has to be a blessing, a meaning, a lesson from this mis-step. I’m not sure that the meaning has yet presented itself fully, it’s only day 3.
I asked my dad to write down the things he always wanted to tell me or my mom and to fold them up and seal them in the jar. I promised that I would not read them until it was time. I told him that I wanted something to hold when I missed him after he was gone.