Waiting. It’s not my strong suit. I’m not good at waiting.
My strong suits are solving problems and helping people, catalyzing people and efforts, creating memorable experiences. Except where I can’t.
In matters of health, I’m not trained and though I have immense energy, incredible passion and willingness, there’s nothing I can do, it’s out of my league.
Doing nothing feels too much like helplessness and involves patience…which is waiting.
My definition of patience is “waiting without complaining.” It’s not easy right now, I have complaints.
In matters of love, when you’re on the sidelines witnessing those you love suffering, it’s difficult to keep your heart open as it’s breaking. It’s easy to complain, it’s hard to witness. There are no good words and it feels awkward and unfamiliar. There is no Etch a Sketch version for a reset to “do it over.” Damn.
It’s awful to wait when the situation only worsens. There is no preparation for death, despite the conversations, prior experiences and logical acceptance of the situation. The heart isn’t ready. Ever.
It’s impossible to wrap your mind around the “why” of it.
The comfort and solace I’ve found available, is in the arms and company of others who “get it” and in the peace and solitude of nature. There is peace in the divinity within the moment, the kindnesses offered and the memories you have.
Everything else feels like infinite waiting.