When my dad suffered a major heart attack and died in his sleep, it was as if a band-aid had been ripped off my heart...pulled quickly. Lots of sudden pain, but in the grand scheme of life, the main pain, over relatively fast.
When my mom spent seven months declining and dying of GBM (Glioblastoma Multiforme) it was sort of like that band-aid was slowly being peeled away. The hurt went on for a long time. But I knew it was coming and I could deal with the final pull.
Right now I have one of those dangling band-aids on my heart. It is sort of being ripped off, but then is being put back on. Flapping around now and then and needing attention. Ineffective in healing, but not ready to be tossed away totally. I can't decide where this band-aid should go: in the trash, or on the wound.
Time always seems to know exactly what is best though. Guess I'll just wait and see what happens.
~image from: http://kannanblogchap6.blogspot.com
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