There’s a space between I can’t and I won’t. I’ve been in this space before; under different circumstances. The time I would not jump off the high dive at the public pool. I couldn’t; but I knew I probably could if I had really wanted to. But that was the thing; I didn’t want to. Therefore I took the the humiliation of antsy children staring at me, no applause as the lifeguard defeated escorted me down the ladder. Inside I had won. There was so much pressure to jump and I changed my mind and would have stood on that tiny board with my toes over the edge until the sun went down.
So here we are today; forgetting when you feel awful most days how much worse it can get. I’m alone with myself and thoughts as my head hurts too much for even music. My body still my lungs heavy. In comes the thought like a cloud without wind I don’t want to do this anymore. Not I can’t. Of course I can. The space between I can’t and I won’t is a choice. This no longer feels like a fight I can win. So I let the disease takes its win; I won’t do a thing. I will be still and hope for a sign that in a minute or an hour or a day I can again. But for now I am done.
Thy will be done. I’ve heard it a hundred times at funerals and weddings. The majority of when I’ve been in a church. But never really thought about it until reading Amanda Kloots Loving and Losing Nick Cordero. Thy will be done. Not being religious thy will has been my will. For today it feels a bit less complicated to hand it over to someone else.
As I lie still contemplating everything and nothing and the space between I can’t and I won’t it begins to pour rain. I turn my head to watch the gusts blow the drops heavily soaking the earth. What if this was the last time I saw rain? That thought was heartbreakingly unexpected. I can’t. But I will.