Sharing the Weakness

My husband, John, had asked our young friend Emily to cook a special meal with pork, one of his favorite foods. Along with the hospice nurses, Emily was helping me care for John in our home as cancer weakened him.

Emily served John his plate where he sat at the living room couch and then joined me and our two guests at the dining room table. I glanced at John. He looked so helpless, alone there, balancing his plate on his lap. Like so many other times in recent weeks, I struggled to discern what the moment was asking of me. What was the most loving way for me to care for my still independent and strong-willed husband?

I went to sit beside John, our thighs touching. I rested my plate on my lap and began eating. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see he was having problems getting the meat into the small spoon that was his preferred utensil these days. With my fork I reached over to his plate and blocked the piece so that it would slide easily into his spoon. We sat side by side, eating quietly, with me intermittently helping him with my fork.

In that moment, I saw that caring for my husband sometimes meant simply joining him in his weakness.