zyzyly (zyzyly) wrote,

  • Music:

57060--topped with a garlic crouton

I went to the main campus this morning for a faculty meeting, but no one told me the meeting was cancelled. So I spent a few minutes talking with the 4th semester teachers about some changes to the cardiac curriculum. One of the teachers was my cardiac teacher when I was in the 4th semester there. It was her first semester teaching. She asked if I could come over and teach the cardiac content for her this semester, seeing as I have nothing to do. I said "of course."

I came home, because other than the faculty meeting, it was my day off. I love having Mondays off. I did the laundry, washed the dishes, and watched a movie. It was such a good movie that I can't even remember what it was. After Malida got home from school I helped her with her homework.

The classes she's taking this semester are a lot more challenging than her previous classes. She is expected to read an article, answer questions about the content and construction, and then write a paper explaining it. "What is the relationship between the first and second sentence in the third paragraph?" Stuff like that. Sometimes she wants me to answer the question for her, and I have to get all teacher on her and explain the process without actually giving her the answer. Sometimes it would just be easier to give her the answer.

I went to the store and bought some cling wrap. I bought two, because they seem to run out sooner than I expect. As I was opening it, I remembered a picture I took back in 2006 of a box of cling wrap on my counter.

My wife at the time had bought it on May 1, 2004. I knew this because she had written the date on the outside of the box with a sharpie pen. She did that. I asked her why, and she told me it was so she could know how long things lasted. Her dad still does it. Go to his house and check the light bulbs and the toothpaste.

The box she bought on May 1, 2004 lasted until January 13, 2006. The irony is that she died in November of 2004, almost 14 months before the box ran out. Whenever I look at the picture, I think about it a little. She knew she was dying when she bought the box, but she still marked it. It's one of the unanswered questions I have. Did she think she was going to outlast the box, or did she do it knowing she wouldn't? Or did she not even thing about it--just marked it because that's what she did.

Here's what I really think. I think she still had hope she'd be alive when the box ran out. She wasn't one to give up, although she accepted her inevitable death with grace and dignity.

When that box first ran out, it caused me to reflect on the impermanence of everything. Nothing lasts forever. So I took a picture to make it last a little longer, and the next day I marked the new box with the date--January 14, 2006, and took a picture of that too, somewhat enshrined on the kitchen counter. I didn't mark today's box, or take a picture of it. Things run out when they run out.

It's little things like this that keep my wife in my memory, and cause me to think about her for a moment or two almost every day.

may 1, 2004

January 14, 2006
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