This Day Means Nothing

It doesn't matter that a year ago today my husband was admitted to the hospital for observation due to possible arrhythmia.

It doesn't matter that in the middle of the night, about 3:30 AM, I was awakened by my cell phone ringing. It means nothing that this wasn't the first time I'd gotten a phone call of this nature.

It doesn't matter that the person who jarred me awake was a doctor at the hospital where Mark was only spending the night for observation.

What the doctor told me doesn't matter. That Mark had experienced arrhythmia and that it had stopped his heart.

It's not important that the doctor went on to tell me they had shocked and rescusitated him, then moved him to the ICU.

It doesn't matter that less than an hour later a nurse called me back and told me I may want to get to the hospital as soon as I can because he was real sick and they were worried.

It was no big deal when I called my friend and dad over to help me with my kids and transportation, or when I called Mark's parents to tell them what was happening.

It's inconsequential that what transpired over the next week sent our loved ones, Mark and myself into a tailspin of stress, worry, fear and grief.

The changes that have come as a result of these events don't matter either.

None of this means anything nor matters because I don't want it to. Because I don't want it to sit on our shoulders, pressing down, threatening to suffocate us with continuing stress, worry, fear and grief.

It all mattered at the time. But my husband made it through that trauma. He survived it. He is still with us.

That is what matters now.

Hope, love, endurance and strength are what matter.

For better or worse, in sickness and in health are what matter.

Always.


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