Crushed. Dan, who always protects, provides, and cares for me, felt helpless to care for me now.
Thank You, Lord, for facetime. We talked and talked and talked. Both of us knew the outcome of my bout with covid-19 may end in a funeral. Dan and I spoke words of love and thanksgiving we needed to say. How thankful I am for that opportunity. Those who die suddenly, never get a good-bye. We said good-bye. We planned my funeral (my idea, not Dan's). We laughed, we cried, we prayed, we sang. We held on to each other and clung to God together in heart, if not in body. We hoped. We trusted. We treasured our time.
Daily, Dan drove to the hospital so he could be as close to me as possible. Parked in the hospital parking lot, he cried out to God for my healing. He fasted and prayed for days.
"The Covidland Casanova (as the nurses referred to Dan) delivered a daily gift to me, via the reception desk in the hospital lobby.
Yes. We were separated, but in many ways we were closer than ever. We knew nothing could separate us from our love for each other or our love for God. The day we wed we became one. Oneness can not become two.
"For I am convinced that
neither death nor life,
neither angels nor demons,
neither the present nor the future,
nor any powers,
neither height nor depth,
nor anything else in all creation,
will be able to separate us from
the love of God that is in
As covid-19 invaded my lungs, Dan's love for me and my love for him filled our hearts. Oh, shame on us for ever taking for granted or overlooking the sweetness of married love and the speediness of life lived not treasuring every moment.
Open your eyes, lovers!
Let go of the stupid stuff that irritates.*
Enjoy each other!
Don't live with regrets.
*My book, We All Married Idiots: Three Things You Will Never Change About Your Marriage and Ten Things You Can, will help you esteem your spouse as a gift to treasure, not as an idiot to tolerate.