Beloved is busy sorting out the shed. Small things; niggly little things being found a place. He is finding things he did not know that he had, and the joy of it all is that he is doing this quite happily; quite unaffected by his heart struggling to pump. He is not breathless, nor does he look tired ….
So I’m happy. There is a nice quiet peace that is settling around us. Like dust, I hope it covers everything with a protective layer that will reflect not swallow contentment; leaving a glow of yes. There will be more days like this.
When you think of it, life is full of small things really. The psychological struggles to solve this or that, to bend down and pick up the fallen apples although to do so makes an impact on your body and then on your mind. Fallen apples become bruised, like we do when we try and do something that was once so easy really and yet now taxes our body and spirit.
But for now, Beloved Husband (BH) is happy and I am too. I read somewhere that when someone with heart failure has a good day, you do too. When their bad days or hours arrives, you have them too. His failing heart becomes mine in a way.
So much to talk about to-day, to think about. It makes me think how much of our spirit is within our heart beats. I’ve heard our spirit lies somewhere within our solar plexus; but I wonder how much of it is linked to our hearts. Some heart transplant patients talk about liking other things, disliking things they always used to like before; like a bit of a personality change. I wonder how much our heart is central to us. Christ’s Sacred Heart – how much of us beats within that muscle that keeps us all going…
“My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.”
― William Shakespeare,