what he'll take

 

Sometimes I sit and watch him sleep, just because I still can.

Even when his eyes are closed he hears me come into the room every time and always says "Hey baby, I missed you."

He is completely bed-bound now. His body will not bear any weight at all, so even with assistance, he's not going anywhere.

We make a secret hand squeezing code for when he can't talk anymore. We hope we never have to use it, but we also know, that the only way that will happen is if something takes him besides the glio. We try not to think about it. Easier for him than me - his short term memory is pretty shot.

We snuggle midday, look through Zillow, and he points to the houses he wants us to buy when he's over all of this. He still dreams about the future  - "when things are better".  I love dreaming with him. It's one of the things I will miss the most.

I memorize the way he rubs my arm, the way he smells, the sound of his voice, the feel of his hair in my fingers, the way he fits right into me, even though I am the big spoon now.

Some reality is slipping away, but he is still Rico. He's pretty sure we can win Jeopardy, travel to Paris, and get to that Elton John concert we missed "when things are better."

I make him hot breakfasts and fancy lunches and as many snacks as he wants. I put extra-good smelling detergent in the washer to make his blankets cozy. I kiss his head 100 times a day and tell him how lucky I am that he's mine. I fluff his pillows and tuck him in when he kicks everything off, and I don't even huff about him stealing the covers like I did 6 months ago.  I buy the expensive applesauce to help him swallow his medication. He says he can't taste the difference - but I can, I'd know. He didn't devote his life to me and our kids just to get Great Value applesauce in his hour of need. I read him texts and notes and love from friends. We make our traditional Nika sandwich every Sunday morning - her in the middle snuggled between mom and dad. I remind him of how good the world is even when I secretly hate the universe for trying to take him away from me so many times.

When he can't remember anything else, I want him to remember love - remember how it feels to be the center of my world, the anchor of our family. I want him to feel wrapped up in your sweet words and our kids hugs and a million kisses that I will still have left for him. When everything else goes, I hope the love stays, I hope it's the one thing he can take with him.