Empty Days and Full Days

I went to visit my Mom in the nursing home last weekend. On the long drive over I thought about how empty her days had become in the last several years. She has only been in nursing home since January 2nd, but for many years before that her life had become very sad and mundane.

Empty days. Sitting in a room with only a bed, a chair, and a dresser. Waiting for someone to come and tell you that it's time to eat the next meal. Listening to people moan or yell down the hall. Having strange people just walk into your room at any given moment. Going to sleep with a roommate whose name you can't remember. Days that have no purpose. None at all.

I know none of us has a choice in the matter. Our days have been numbered by our loving Creator. So even though I don't get to choose how many days I get, I have put in my request for Full Days. I don't want empty days. I don't want to get to the end of my life and sit in a room staring at four walls. I don't want to wake up not knowing where I am or who is sleeping in the bed next to me. I don't want my memories to become so faded that they aren't even real (my Mom has memories of things that never even happened).

Full days. Susan lived full days. She crammed more things in a day than I stretch out into a week. Makes me a bit ashamed. She poured her life into other people consistently. Her days were full, even her very last day was filled with adventure, memories, joy and love.

Two lives that are so extremely different. And when we are the ones getting left behind, we wish for others to have many, many days on this earth --- even if they turn into empty days. But if we are the ones leaving, we want to die while the days are still full. Full of life. Full of activity, people, events, memories, love.

Empty Days. Full Days. The reality is that we do have a choice of sorts. We can become self-absorbed and give up when life gets a little harder. Or we can live a life of giving, a life of reaching out. We can do our best to make sure each day we are granted is a full day. What are you doing to make this day a full one?

Erasing The Days

For years I have kept a dry erase calendar on the fridge. It helps my family remember where they have to be on any given day. When the days would run out at the end of the calendar, I would erase the whole thing and fill it out for the next 5 weeks.

Last fall, I found myself unconsciously beginning a new habit. As I got ready to head to bed each night, I took my finger and wiped that day off the calendar. Another day done. I quickly realized what I was doing and what was driving me to this odd behavior. Each day that I could erase brought me one day closer to the next time I would see Logan. We had left him at college in August and  I missed him terribly. Everyday that went by just brought me one day closer to the time that I would get to see him again. It was a game of sorts, one that made the loneliness a little more bearable.

This January I found myself wiping those days away with a totally different motive. And I don't always wait until bed time to erase the day, sometimes I do it as soon as I think it's "legal." For now, each day that I make disappear takes me another day away from Susan's death. It is another day that our family has made it through grief. It is another day that we are closer to healing.

I have been through grief before, unfortunately. And my experience tells me that the more time that passes, the better life gets. We will one day have some semblance of normal again. We will one day answer the phone without fear of what news it brings. We will one day fully enjoy a good laugh without feeling guilty. We will one day look forward to holidays with anticipation, not dread. And at the end of this day, I will be one day closer to that day.