Carol

She’d lay still in bed, every day. Not by choice, but always with a smile. Her ability to find joy in even the most hopeless of circumstance, this is what I remember most. Paralyzed from the waist down she had no choice but to wait, always with a smile. 30 years… For thirty years that room was filled with love, family, hope, frustration… She was in some ways suffering, but chose to sing.

“Doe, a dear a female dear

Ray, a drop of golden sun

Me, a name I call myself

Far, a long long way to run

So, a needle pulling thread

La, a note to follow so

Tea, a drink with jam and bread!”

She laughed her way through the rest.

I can feel her now. In the very core of my being. Should I live my life with half as much grace as Carol, I’ll die a happy man.