It's the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. I'm alone even though I reside in a shared bedroom with a 78-year old woman. I'm alone in this skilled nursing facility housing 100+ souls. I'm reconciled to my aloneness. My heart doesn't hurt. At least not today. I hold hope in my heart that my husband will visit. He begged off taking me to church this morning citing snow yet the roads are clear. But I hold hope nonetheless.
I have God. I know I do. He never leaves me and carries me every day, every minute. Especially when I'm weak and in despair.
I think about my friend, Kate Struby, who died from this horrible disease in 2013. She lived here at Bailey Boushay House before I did. I reached out to Kate online through FaceBook because I loved her photograph with her head thrown back in laughter. I also loved her posts. I guess I just loved her spirit. I got to finally meet her one month before she died. I happened to be at the University of Washington Medical Center for my quarterly appointment when I saw her FaceBook post. She was awake and in the medical ICU. She was a mere few floors down. I would not be stopped. Relativeor no, I would meet my FaceBook friend. Thank God I did. I rolled into the room to find a beautiful, ethere.al woman flanked by two friends. Although it was an impromtu visit, she said she knew me immediately.I was in awe of her with her fiery spirit despite the ravages of our shared disease. She, unable to lift even a finger, lifted my spirit.
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