Some time ago, I read that the story of Jack Frost originated from Viking folklore - Jokul Frosti. A fable of sorts and a good yarn that helped to describe the “icicle frost” and cold. I suppose we have an equivalent in Old Man Winter.
Why do these men of the cold come and what do they have to say? For certain, they announce that fall is here and winter is coming with mornings crisp and cool and a dryness upon the air. Perhaps they also provide an environment to illuminate our lives and stories. Remember as a child when you would blow upon a cool window and then write your name...or something even more fun? I recall going outside as a child into the cool, dry air and having my breath taken away.
Later in life, as a husband and before I became a father, Jack Frost would take my breath away again.
To this day, ‘Love of My Life’ (LOML) loves to step outside the back door of the house and take in the fresh morning air. It’s somewhat of a ritual and set from her love of nature.
I remember our first house. Modest describes it best although the original owner decided to remove a dividing wall and combine the family room and kitchen. What we were left with was a huge kitchen which backed onto a wooden deck of the same size. We felt so fortunate and thanked God for our blessings.
On a morning not unlike this morning, nineteen years ago, LOML stepped on to the deck that Jack Frost had decorated over night. The view was stunning with the morning sun lighting the frost like a carpet of diamonds.
This one morning was a little different. She came in and asked a question. “Dave?” An interesting question for certain. When you hear your name asked as a question, it makes you stop and listen. The tone of her voice was shaky and I could sense her concern. One question - one word - my name...I could tell something was wrong. You know what I’m talking about. You can hear these very big little things in a sound from the ones most precious to you - it takes years of practice and love.
“Dave, I can’t feel my feet. I didn’t feel the frost on my feet.” Emphasis on ‘feel’, ‘frost’, and ‘feet’.
We did not know it at the time however, Ro had Multiple Sclerosis (MS) and would later be diagnosed and have to live with the disease for 19 years.
For those of you not familiar with MS, here’s the medical definition: “MS is a complex disease of the central nervous system and affects the ability of nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord to communicate with each other.” In practical terms, this means that LOML has gradually lost more and more control over her body over the years. She describes it as being trapped in a body that’s failing you. I say it’s a malevolent and selfish disease in that it “takes and takes and takes”. Bit by bit it erodes your life and and tries to take away hope and happiness.
We’re in a good place with two lovely daughters and wonderful and supportive family and friends. It takes time to get your priorities straight and be in a happy place each and every day. More of those stories another day.
On fresh, crisp mornings after Jack has visited, I still see her footprints in the frost so clearly outlined in my memory.
The other day I spoke about incredible people, my heroes, who have shaped my life the most and how they have all had to go through rough journeys only to endure a tough journey. Their biographies when distilled into my essence effect my ‘herography’. That is, my life story.
This was another one of these stories - about my wife, who has taught me how to let go.
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Post script 1: I don’t usually do this however, I read the blog to my wife in advance of posting. It really is ‘her’ story and so I wanted to make sure it was resonating. She was beside me as I read it out loud. I heard no response - she was wiping the tears from her eyes. We hugged.
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