Love… endures forever.
1 Cor 13:7
Title credits to Wordsworth’s Intimations of Immortality.
God created people; he gives us value. Many churches say that because He numbered your days, killing yourself should never be an option. I was thinking, however, about Ian’s grandma who had Alzheimer’s and passed away while Jess and I were on our road trip. And mom’s friend John who also died of Alzheimer’s. It’s so hard on the families, though the person going through it is conscious of the fact for a while, after a time they just won’t remember. I was thinking about this, and wondering: would it be better to die than go through that? If the person lives long enough, they completely lose themselves, and isn’t that losing the person that God designed? Yes, physically they are still there, but the personality is completely lost.
In this case, would it be better to just put the person out of their misery? It would be torture to me to know that I would slowly lose myself – my memories – and also know that Ian would have to be there to watch. It seems like, when you’ve reached the point that you are no longer you, just a human body subsisting because people help you with all bodily functions… Well, I am not God. There was a man named Kevin Jones, a BCS soccer coach, who came down with Lou Gehrig’s Disease and instead of buckling under and becoming miserably depressed as you might expect, it became an amazing and wonderful opportunity for testimony. He spoke numerous places, reaching people that never would have listened to him if he had been just another soccer coach. He was an example to us all at BCS, shining brightly joy in a terribly sad situation.
But the horror… you lose who you are, in the end. Kevorkian was convicted for “murdering” people who wanted to die because of terminal diseases: they could not live knowing their future that way. I’m not sure where I’m going with this, so that means it’s time to stop on that subject.
Today has been a downer of a day. Everything started blah and end with me being gone and not even having a chance to tell Ian goodnight. I went to classes and disliked Major British Writers II (he got gussied up for the picture, I guess; and that of course doesn’t show his more enduring qualities of being completely incomprehensible, going off topic constantly, and breathing exceedingly loudly through his nose every minute or so) as usual. The shuttle was, shockingly, 10 minutes late so I stood for 20 in the cold wind, because being me I like to arrive early for sureity’s sake. During my hours between classes I turned in my transcript request form and talked for a while to Prof. Robertson, the only professor I know at all well, who said she would be happy to to a recommendation for me to go to WPI. Then she tried to convince me to do a self-designed major at Clark, since I’m well on my way to having filled my Bio major requirements. It was awkard, and I didn’t want to say that I spent all day lonely and sorrowful, seeing cheerful friends chattering and having memories of that from last year – but only memories, because Clark holds no friends for me anymore. I didn’t tell her that, or that I was sick of standing out in the freezing cold to catch a shuttle, having to stay alone on campus all day, and having to get up at 7:00 for a 9:00 class. We could move. I could work harder to make new friends. And I would have to design my own major. Or…I could do an already-designed major at a school where I know at least twice as many people than I know at Clark. Hmmmm. At least she’s willing to do the recommendation, and do a good one.
I slipped and fell on ice today, ripping a hole in my brand new jeans knee and in fact ripping through my PJ pants underneath – one of my favorite pairs too! – and into my knee a little bit. Frankly the pants annoy me most because they were brand new, bought them just before I left, I am once again reduced to having one single pair of jeans that doesn’t have a hole in them. Plus I don’t know how to repair such a thing, so it’s either have a hole in the knee and look scuzzy (I’m not!) or don’t wear them at all. So if anybody’s at the Bon, and sees a pair of size 4 Style & Co. stretchy jeans, pick me up a pair and I’ll pay you back. *cries* And landing on the ice really hurt.
On the bright side, Luke took Eric and me to dinner at Daka, where we met Lesley and her friend Nick. So we had a nice friendly dinner, lots of laughing, and afterwards did laundry. Only it wasn’t the laundry party we hoped for, and I felt scummy again because Luke joined us on the spur of the moment expecting to do something fun and we just did nothing. Lesley brought Todd to do his laundry as well, and seeing them – they were constantly touching each other, doing intimate things – I ached for Ian. I haven’t touched a human being (besides myself) since Jess left and I gave her a hug. I wish I could have a hug right now. …There was karaoke in Campus Center, and simply hearing that made my night worse. I couldn’t open Ian’s mailbox, either, so I had to have Luke do it for me. I guess I’m just tired, don’t want to crawl back up that hill one more time to get my laundry out of the dryer, fold it, and bring it back here; I just want to sleep now. Preferably cuddled up with Ian, but since that won’t happen, I guess Mr. Whale will have to do.
Funny how you can be surrounded by friends and still feel so lonely, empty.
– KF –
36 days to my husband.