The return of good times.

In the last 3 years of Jeanne's life, I learned acceptance. I learned that Jeanne wasn't gonna get better. And that it was only a matter of time before she would die. I guess that goes for all of us. But I knew there was no getting better from Alzheimer's. There was no recovery. And so it was a matter of acceptance. And making the best of each and every day. In a sense, that was the way to postpone the inevitable. I wasn't thinking ahead to tomorrow. I was finally learning to live in the moment. And to accept today for what it is. When I came home from the nursing home at night, I had sort of a reprieve. A respite. An opportunity to recharge my batteries. And to put life into proper perspective. I wasn't fighting the inevitable any more. I was accepting. And salvaging everything I could. Everything that was meaningful. I wasn't lamenting. I wasn't cursing fate. Because I still had meaningful aspects of Jeanne. And of life, period. I was prepared, if necessary, to go on like that forever. Of course, death came. It always does. Sooner or later. Some day, I'll be the one that dies. But meanwhile, I want to live. To really savor today. The moment. Everything I can get out of life. It'd be nice if we never had to lose a loved one. If life could always go on in an idyllic fashion. But I know that's not the nature of life. And I have to accept it. And I'm learning to truly enjoy the good times. And to accept the bad times. And weather them. And wait for the inevitable return of good times. --Jim Broede