Victor Frankl is right (see post from January 16) - one can have moments of joy in the midst of suffering. I had a happy moment last night. I was sitting on the red loveseat. Miles was sitting next to me and Grace was sitting on the other side of him. We were watching one of Miles's DVDs (They Might Be Giants 1-2-3). Seth climbed into my lap. I felt his weight and smelled his hair. I was happy.
But does the possibility of happy moments justify enduring any amount of suffering? I don't think so. When the ratio of painful moments to happy ones reaches some point, I think it's acceptable to decide that this quality of life isn't worth it. I don't know where that point is and I'm reluctant to make that decision because, at least for now, it feels like giving up and I don't want my sons to ever think that I gave up. I don't want them to ever give up on themselves, so how could I justify giving up on myself?
But is accepting the inevitable really giving up? I think that's an unfortunate implication of the "battle" metaphor for dealing with terminal illness. This isn't really a battle. At least, it's not a fair battle. I've been told in advance that I can't win.
But what is winning? It's not living forever. I think it's dying well. But what is dying well? I think it's living well as long as possible.
That makes sense to me, but it's hard to live well when you feel sick all the time. And so I go, round in circles...
Ethan
Ethan, you have learned to live well. The times I have seen you this year, you are more radiant than I’ve ever seen you—so clearly drinking in those fleeting perfections on this world. I know that you will continue to walk this path graciously. Giving up and letting go are two different things. Everybody who loves you, including your sons, know this.
ReplyDeleteThanks Sarah! I love you and your family!
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