The mills of the gods

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.