There is so much to say about Vernon and the emotional roller-coaster of experiencing a loved-one’s illness/recovery. I run into widows and widowers  who have had to learn to grieve fully and live a new singular life  as often as I run into people who have miraculous stories, who have died and returned with a new lease on life. It’s so encouraging. I also have been running into people who can’t get over a wrong done/or something said to them years ago, and all I can see is the absurdity of  attitudes that don’t want to move forward. It’s so annoying.

I’m presently processing a lot of thoughts like this, all due to this new perspective on life that Vernon’s story is allowing. But I’ll spare you my crazy mind and its workings-out and instead focus on a lovely story that happened the other day.

Two of Vernon’s friends (and mine!) came in the other day to play for him.

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Gerry on the flute.

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Joshua on the mandolin.

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Here they are, sharing bluegrass stories with the respiratory therapist, who was doing all sorts of family name-dropping (none of which I’d ever heard before… but it was sweet to see the fascination-energy happening in passing.

We had a physical therapist come in for a bit and as the music was slightly loud (we loved it, but needed to focus for a bit) I asked if they would go play music to the man next door, who I’d just found was having dialysis done, but was very much awake.

How wonderful that there is so much love and joy to go around. People come to minister to their friend and it just spills over to strangers. I  love that. Isn’t that the beauty of a full-life?  The man next door, though he was in the hospital for only two days,  had been having dialysis for 6 years and in his own words, “it sucks.”  He told me later this was the best dialysis session he ever had.

The boys came back in later to us, by the way. This gives you an idea of what Vernon heard.

 

“If you ask me what I came to do in this world, I, an artist, will answer you: I am here to live out loud.”

― Émile Zola

 

 

 

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