|What the Start of a Typical Sunday Looks Like at The Love Loft on Wheels|
Lately, I spend most of my days alone, except for Roz, my dog. She is very much favored of Steve, my other half. She loves me and I, her, and we share some wonderful moments together. But... He's the FUN Dad because he likes taking her on long, meandering walks to meet her friends at the dog park. She is more socialized than I these days. She likes people and interaction far more than I do.
Facing an illness does this to a person. It sequesters one to their own self-imposed prison dwelling, hospital, or hospice. Otherwise, it's just awkward and uncomfortable and a constant reminder we all are on a path of physical demise. One cannot blame the otherwise healthy people for being genetically designed to be repelled by sickness and death. Again, that's another long, sordid story for another indeterminable time. I'm just not ready or healthy enough yet.
|This is ROZ. You're Going to Read A LOT about HER!|
But, come Sunday, we are all three together, at the same place, at the same time. Very much a communion and gathering of three beings trying the best they can to hang on while this rock keeps spinning on its axis. Life, Work and Family hover in our all-too amateur jugglers' hands and we are constantly trying (and failing often) to not drop one of those bundles of things of importance. Add chronic and terminal illness to this game, you're going to have to drop something sometime. Keeping the dream aloft, the things that matter, lest they fall away and become shattered relics of life gone by, wasted, worked away. If there is one thing I have learned from this harrowing season of illness is: A Life doesn't have to be complicated to matter.- I'm still chewing on this one and relishing its simple profound flavor.
|HOLY TRINITY by Mateo 2012|
So, on Sundays, we come together. No agenda, no awkward silences.
This is so because this is our sacred.
We communicate in hushed murmurings sometimes punctuated by bright brassy laughter.
We draw nourishment from fresh fare whimsically mated out of reverence for the nonchalantness of the day. Our table is a day-long smörgåsbord, just smaller proportions.
The bed rarely gets made on these holiest of days.
No rules, no lofty rites, no shame, and no guilt.
And, We are Okay with Being Okay with That.