fractured love.

Today, I think, I saw real love. In the eyes of a son, all grown up and grey-haired, brushing the hair and holding the hand of his mother, all grown old and white-haired. She was in a hospital bed, looking serene now that we had given her something for the pain (hip fracture).

I guess it is true; life comes full cycle. For when we are old and demented, our eyes regain the innocence of a child and our bodies lose the independence of an adult as our mind slips away. And our children nurse us, as we once did them.

Like I told a friend today, being in hospital (as a patient) isn't necessarily a bad thing. It seems that love is a strange thing; for some it is coaxed out be displays of devotion or daily acts of comfort and care; for others it is yanked out by a traumatic, unforeseen event that jolts us out of our daily stupor/routine/callousness. Like a hip fracture.

And so, to prevent further hip fractures that only serve to disturb my sleep (during call), let's all remember to love - in a way that is palpable, visible, audible......so that those we love are left with no shadow of a doubt that they are, indeed, loved.

Maybe I should get a hip fractured too.