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Deyr einn, spirar einn


He’d come inside to visit but immediately turned around to walk out the door without saying hello or goodbye.  Something was off about his appearance so she ran out to greet him.  He’d lost weight, was gaunt and his face was sweaty.  She sensed the seriousness of his health.

She asked him to come back inside so they could talk.  He stared at her, looked away and then looked back nodding yes.  So many thoughts were swirling around as her heart could feel the injury and fear in his voice.

She asked him to sit in the coach so she could make coffee.  Still he was silent.  When she returned to sit next to him he leaned forward to hug her and they sat like that for several minutes, silent.

When he pulled away he said, “I don’t think it’s worth it.  It’s too much. I don’t know how long I have left. I’m sick. I love you, but I’m sick and well… It’s not fair to you.”

As she listened quietly her heart was weeping.  He had held his truth in far too long.  “Is it your heart or your throat?” she asked.

“Both.” he answered.

She wanted to say many things,  that any moments she could share with him were worth it, that love has no guidelines, limitations or expiration dates. She wanted to remind him that love exists only to give itself away and that there was nothing more valuable that they could gift one another with. She knew there were harsh realities that existed in the face of her idealism but still wanted to take care of him, even if it meant he could not take care of her because she knew life held no guarantees.

The pain of silencing his voice for too many years introduced the dis-eases.  In that moment she too couldn’t speak. Instead she leaned forward and kissed him, hoping her words were being translated to his heart.

It was their final kiss.

Dream, October 2017

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