The In-Between Times…

Your life is full of them, the times you are transitioning from one phase to another.

When I was young, my in-between times were like a dawn. It was not quite night, but not yet day; still, I was heading toward the light. The fullness of something new and exciting was growing on the horizon. I couldn’t wait for what was ahead.

In the morning of my life, I had so many dawns, so many in-between times. Turning 5 and starting kindergarten, going from toddler to child. Starting 7th grade, when I moved from childhood to adolescence. Leaving for college 1700 miles from home. The first day of marriage after the honeymoon. The births of my daughters.

My midday came with my 25th college reunion.

Right now, I am sitting here beside Mom in an ICU room in a nice neighborhood in Oklahoma City. Dad and Holland have moved past all their in-between times, and the clock moved to midnight. My faith tells me they have another dawn ahead, more glorious and exciting than the first.

That is my hope and gamble, anyway.

As I watch Mom breathe and rest, I wonder how many in-between times she has left. She tells Billy and me that she is ready for midnight, that she looks forward to it.

I accede to her wishes as I sign the DNR (Do Not Resuscitate).

It is a horrible burden to honor her wishes. If she chooses to join Dad and Holland, who am I to say “No.“?

This last in-between has been rough on her. At 79, this is the first time in her entire life she has lived alone. She hates it.

Right now, she is doing better. Better than I expected. Maybe she has 1 more in-between time ahead.

Or maybe not.

Now, right now, as I evaluate my life, I am in my evening. I can see my dusk coming, but the sun is still above the horizon.

Or so I hope.

I still have so much I want to do, so much more to achieve and experience. People I want to reach out to and love.

I am in the middle of one of the worst in-betweens a man like me can experience — watching my childhood family disintegrate, only to realize my daughters are gone also.

Damn.

Those big Christmases? Gone. Those big Thanksgivings? Gone. 15 kids here on Friday nights, the ones I watched grow up? Gone.

Going.

Going.

Gone.

I love you, Mom. Thanks for loving me enough to tell me “No. “

Thanks for loving me enough to make me finish what I started.

Thanks for teaching me to say “Thank you” and “Yes, Ma’am”.

Thanks for teaching me to say “I’m sorry“ and “I was wrong.”

Thanks for saying “You can do it. I believe in you.”

Even though I don’t feel like it, when it comes time to let you go, I will honor your wishes.

I never deserved you.

You always deserved better than me.

No matter how hard my in-betweens, I will never forget you…