I am in a hurry to love
It is very painful to part, and I am afraid of the losses that await me, so I am in a hurry to love. I am in a hurry to appreciate every person next to me, because one day he will be gone. Only this feeling reconciles me to life. I often think that my life will end at some point and it is not clear what will happen next, then …
Hospital corridors. Lowered heads, lowered shoulders. Eyes that see you off either with envy or with hope. They catch, forcing to slow down, stop.
Sooner or later, each of us ends up in such a hospital corridor, waiting for the results, or our own, or loved ones. Or coming to visit their relatives where even the very name of the institution is associated with pain. Hospital. And it would be nice - a health resort, for example.
I do not agree with the name, I do not agree with life, I do not agree with death. This fear of losing loved ones lives in me. Even the thought that parents are not eternal and that they will someday not be, that the child will grow up and live separately, shakes and shatters my inner world.
I had a terrible experience as a child. I was about seven years old when they brought me to the hospital with my dying grandfather - apparently, to say goodbye. I remember crying when I was alone. Long. Cheerless.
This first experience with the "smell of death" in the hospital room of a dying grandfather left its mark. For a long time I resisted thoughts of coffins, graves filling with dirty water, of my imminent death. Childhood fear of death lurked behind thoughts of the loss of people close to me. As soon as I thought that I would never see them again … never … as my breath caught and my heart sank.
To love without the past tense
The selfish desire for loved ones to stay close, not to part, to keep them, fogged my mind until I fell in love. His job is constant travel. We met, parted, met again - the feeling of a strong connection never left me. Even at a distance, I felt safe, protected.
Her husband's illness took him for a whole year, but memory and consciousness were the first to leave. The time to finish and say goodbye was short. I managed to ask for forgiveness. I managed to hear poems that he had never read to me before and I was sure that not only did he not write, he did not know poetry. It remained an unfinished book for me. He left, but love remained.
It is very painful to part, and I am afraid of the losses that await me, so I am in a hurry to love. I am in a hurry to appreciate every person next to me, because one day he will be gone. Only this feeling reconciles me to life. I often think that my life will end at some point and it is not clear what will happen next, then. It is this "sweat" that intercepts the throat, pushing towards the bottomless emptiness. And I am in a hurry to show my love for a person during life. After all, then it may be too late.
Death as a reason for life
I never cease to worry and worry, but now this fear is not for myself, but for another, for others. A sense of the value and fleetingness of life came. Having become a social worker, I faced the problems of other people, their experiences, troubles. I faced disease, old age, death. I saw the inexplicable power of hospice workers who help people to die with dignity every day.
- Mom, what do you want?
- Nothing, daughter. Just stay close.
- I love you, mommy. Sorry. Are you cold?
I am in a hurry to love, mom has little time left. I'm in hurry. Hugging, warming, stopping the mad sound of the ticking clock. Mom goes over in memory those with whom she has not yet said goodbye, for the hundredth time reminds where the bundle of clothes is, how much money and whom she wants to leave. I am afraid of the upcoming pain - bodily warmth will go away, this source of care, love, support will dry up. But I know that my world will not collapse, there will be memories, experiences, gifts of joy and laughter.
Outside the window, the wind, as if cradling, gently lowers the loose leaf to the ground.
