Paralyzed

February, 1987.  On a frigid, dreary afternoon, I walked, exhausted, into my house after a day of teaching adolescents  and found my husband lying on the couch in the dark living room softly weeping..

“Kevin, what is it?  Why are you home?”

This was highly unusual.  He was a reporter for a major newspaper and didn’t get home until early evening.  My habit was to come home, take a power nap and find some energy before picking up our kids at day care.

“I’m HIV positive,” he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around him.  I couldn’t speak.  I just hugged him.  We’d been married for five years.  Years before, we had been swept up in the free love era.  AIDS was not on our radar.  I knew there was a slight chance but only slight.  ‘Get the test,’ I told him, thinking it would put our nervousness at ease.  

What did this mean?  I had to have it, too.  Our kids were only 2 and 3.  Were they infected?  Who would take care of them when we were gone?  The obvious questions.

Quite suddenly, this feeling of great warmth and peace enveloped me.  I said to him, “We will be all right.  We will face this together.”  We both sobbed and held each other.

He’s gone now.  He left us 18 years ago today.

He lived for 9 years after the diagnosis. I was spared, as was our children.  Miracles, the three of us.  The doctors couldn’t explain it.

Our lives together changed dramatically.  We lived in the moment.  The mundane became so sweet.  On the weekends, we never left each other’s side.  We went to the grocery store together, the hardware store, every errand we shared.

He insisted life was for living; he refused to focus on dying.  His greatest dream had been to be a father and he made every effort to be at their games, their concerts.  We spent our Friday nights eating pizza and watching the family shows, all four of us cuddling on the couch.

He was in and out of the hospital, I stayed by his side, even slept with him in his hospital bed.  Eventually, hospice moved into our home and one morning, he was gone.

I had years to prepare for this.  I wasn’t.  Could you ever be?