The mills of the gods grind woe, And they grind exceedingly slow (with apologies to Longfellow).
Today he was not well. In some pain and just…not there. So bad that I returned to check again later, and he was indeed a little better.
But tonight all I can hear in my brain is his voice, “I trust you. I trust you to make the right decisions for us.”
He said this over and over in moments of clarity as the dementia gnawed his fine mind.
And I did the best I could, but – gods – the woe is unending and a slow dance. Into death. But i will not leave him alone. My life lesson.
The guy I thought would be a 7 year fling! Going into 38 years … and counting. Grinding out the good times and the bad, but slow.