On this day last year, my husband and I were all set to move into our new house. We were supposed to meet the movers at our storage unit to load up the truck and then take everything to the new house to unload it.
Our busy moving schedule meant that I would have to go five days without seeing my mom. Since she started dying, I had not gone more than 2-3 days without seeing her. Something told me that five days was too long. What if she didn’t have five days left?
I told my husband that I couldn’t go five days without seeing my mom. If she died during those five days, I would never forgive myself for going that long without seeing her. I asked him if he could go to the new house to deal with the movers by himself, while I went to visit my mom. That meant I would only have to go three days without seeing my mom instead of five.
My husband could have told me that I was being ridiculous.
He could have said that he needed my help.
He could have guilted me into being there for him instead of my mom.
But he didn’t.
He went to deal with the movers by himself, while I went to visit my mom.
That was the last time I saw my mom alive.
One year ago today.
Love doesn’t always look like romance.
Sometimes it looks like running around your new house by yourself all day telling the movers where to put things so that your wife can go kneel at the bedside of her dying mother.
I will be forever grateful to him for that one last day with my mom.
And forever grateful to myself for listening to my intuition.
