interrupted.”
Even
now as I write about what happened, it still seems like a
nightmare . . . as though I’m totally disconnected from reality,
though I have only to look up to see Gary lying in that hospital bed to know
the nightmare is real. We’ve been here a week now and nothing has changed. The
doctors keep telling us to give it time, to hold on, to not lose
faith . . . but each hour that passes fills my heart with so
much sadness, I can hardly breathe at times.
Whoa. The hairs on the back
of my neck just prickled. Talk about creepy. I’m reading Lucille’s description
of how she felt —using
many of the exact words I’ve thought myself, day after day since we’ve
been here. I’m not sure anyone else could understand these emotions except for
my Aunt Lucille. Strange. Unbelievably strange.
I glanced at Mark then found
my place again.
Gary ’s parents come every day, of course. I’ve
grown to love them both so much. They seem truly grateful that I’m willing to
stay with Gary around the clock. I’m so glad this
hospital allows loved ones to stay with patients as long as they like. It’s a
good thing because I would have fought them on the matter.
Mother
comes every morning. She leaves Jack with our neighbor, Mrs. Trussell, so she tries
to stay no more than half an hour. I suspect she keeps it short so she doesn’t
impose on the Reynolds’ time with Gary . In a peculiar way, my parents and
Gary’s have gotten to know each other fairly well over the past week. He’d be
so happy to know they genuinely like each other.
I want
so desperately to tell them about Gary ’s proposal the night before all this
happened. But I can’t do it until he comes around — I mean, WHEN he comes
around. I don’t want to share such special news without him.
A
nurse reminded me today that Christmas is the day after tomorrow. I was
absolutely stunned. Time has stood still since that morning at the train
station. It’s strange — the
way I felt when she told me. I remembered the beautifully decorated windows at
Marshall Field’s, and how we shopped that day so Gary could leave presents for his family when
he left. I remembered the tree in the corner of the Reynolds’ living room, the
lovely lights and garlands of cranberries and popcorn.
I’ve
always loved Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday. And yet, when the nurse asked
about my plans for Christmas, I wanted to slap that starched cap right off her
head! I didn’t, of course. I tried to keep a kind tone in my voice when I told
her we’d be spending Christmas at Gary ’s bedside. She stopped and looked at me,
her eyes moist with tears, then reached for my hand and squeezed it, asking me
to forgive her for saying something so insensitive. I thought that was sweet of
her.
Still,
I can’t shake the added gloom of knowing Christmas may come and go without Gary coming around. I smile, remembering his
constant medley of Christmas songs in the days we spent together. He can be
such a ham at times! Oh, how I miss those carefree days of Christmas carols and
dancing and laughing so hard, our sides ached.
But
those happy memories last only a few moments before the gravity of all this sneaks
back under my skin. I look at his face, hardly recognizing it without his
contagious smile and those sparkling blue eyes. Oh Gary , please come back to me.
Mother
prayed with me this morning before she left. We stood by Gary ’s bed, our hands covering his. Mother
prayed for God’s healing hand to reach down and touch Gary . She prayed for his doctors and nurses
and those who bathe him each morning and keep his room clean. I never would
have thought to pray for those people. How I wish I had my mother’s faith.
And
then she prayed for me, asking God to keep me safe in His care. Asking Him to
calm my spirit and help me learn to trust Him completely. When her voice
failed, she squeezed my hand, urging me to continue her prayer. Instead,
Even
now as I write about what happened, it still seems like a
nightmare . . . as though I’m totally disconnected from reality,
though I have only to look up to see Gary lying in that hospital bed to know
the nightmare is real. We’ve been here a week now and nothing has changed. The
doctors keep telling us to give it time, to hold on, to not lose
faith . . . but each hour that passes fills my heart with so
much sadness, I can hardly breathe at times.
Whoa. The hairs on the back
of my neck just prickled. Talk about creepy. I’m reading Lucille’s description
of how she felt —using
many of the exact words I’ve thought myself, day after day since we’ve
been here. I’m not sure anyone else could understand these emotions except for
my Aunt Lucille. Strange. Unbelievably strange.
I glanced at Mark then found
my place again.
Gary ’s parents come every day, of course. I’ve
grown to love them both so much. They seem truly grateful that I’m willing to
stay with Gary around the clock. I’m so glad this
hospital allows loved ones to stay with patients as long as they like. It’s a
good thing because I would have fought them on the matter.
Mother
comes every morning. She leaves Jack with our neighbor, Mrs. Trussell, so she tries
to stay no more than half an hour. I suspect she keeps it short so she doesn’t
impose on the Reynolds’ time with Gary . In a peculiar way, my parents and
Gary’s have gotten to know each other fairly well over the past week. He’d be
so happy to know they genuinely like each other.
I want
so desperately to tell them about Gary ’s proposal the night before all this
happened. But I can’t do it until he comes around — I mean, WHEN he comes
around. I don’t want to share such special news without him.
A
nurse reminded me today that Christmas is the day after tomorrow. I was
absolutely stunned. Time has stood still since that morning at the train
station. It’s strange — the
way I felt when she told me. I remembered the beautifully decorated windows at
Marshall Field’s, and how we shopped that day so Gary could leave presents for his family when
he left. I remembered the tree in the corner of the Reynolds’ living room, the
lovely lights and garlands of cranberries and popcorn.
I’ve
always loved Christmas. It’s my favorite holiday. And yet, when the nurse asked
about my plans for Christmas, I wanted to slap that starched cap right off her
head! I didn’t, of course. I tried to keep a kind tone in my voice when I told
her we’d be spending Christmas at Gary ’s bedside. She stopped and looked at me,
her eyes moist with tears, then reached for my hand and squeezed it, asking me
to forgive her for saying something so insensitive. I thought that was sweet of
her.
Still,
I can’t shake the added gloom of knowing Christmas may come and go without Gary coming around. I smile, remembering his
constant medley of Christmas songs in the days we spent together. He can be
such a ham at times! Oh, how I miss those carefree days of Christmas carols and
dancing and laughing so hard, our sides ached.
But
those happy memories last only a few moments before the gravity of all this sneaks
back under my skin. I look at his face, hardly recognizing it without his
contagious smile and those sparkling blue eyes. Oh Gary , please come back to me.
Mother
prayed with me this morning before she left. We stood by Gary ’s bed, our hands covering his. Mother
prayed for God’s healing hand to reach down and touch Gary . She prayed for his doctors and nurses
and those who bathe him each morning and keep his room clean. I never would
have thought to pray for those people. How I wish I had my mother’s faith.
And
then she prayed for me, asking God to keep me safe in His care. Asking Him to
calm my spirit and help me learn to trust Him completely. When her voice
failed, she squeezed my hand, urging me to continue her prayer. Instead,
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