When Laura was at her lowest, Macmillan or Marie Curie nurses were always on call, night and day. On one such occasion, I called them out, again, in the very early hours of the morning. There were always two of them. They covered the whole of the county but always seemed to get there fairly quickly, which, given Laura's condition, was a blessing. That morning, it must have been about 2 or 3am, they came and tended to Laura with their usual professional dignity and care. The older of the two nurses took a look at me when they were about done and suggested I come downstairs with her for a little chat while the other nurse finished taking the details and writing her notes.
Downstairs in the kitchen I was expecting her to update me on Laura's condition but instead this softly spoken Irish nurse told me about her experiences both on a personal and professional level. She told me how she had seen people deal with cancer differently on many occasions. She spoke about her own family and the effect cancer had on them. She honestly told me how difficult it was and how it would be for me, not just then but in the future. She knew I'd hardly slept a wink over the last few days but urged me to try get some rest. She gave me little bits of advice, even second guessing me that any advice that she gave to me in regards to my own wellbeing would probably be ignored, given that all I cared about in that moment in time was Laura and the kids. I was a distant third. And by some distance. She knew this. But she had such a comforting manner that the words she said made that distance lessen a little. Finally, she said those three words to me that have been with me for nearly a year now and will be with me for the rest of my life: love will prevail. She said it so softly but with a certain conviction that I knew she had complete faith in what she said.
Her words moved me. They renewed my strength. They helped me breathe again. No words could ever remove the pain in my heart but I found something there. I found the strength to go on. I would endure. The kids needed me to be strong. Her words and her manner helped in so many ways that it is hard to describe their power. They were simply that, powerful.
There have been times over the last year I had asked myself what does it actually mean. What does love will prevail mean? Life can be cruel and unfair, even for those that know love, that have love in their hearts, that know only love and that are undeserving of such hardships. Why is it that love isn't impervious to pain and hurt and tragedy? I've been angry enough to think what good is love if it can still undone by such cruel fate. Maybe we should just enjoy love as a concept but never fully commit to it as it doesn't seem as strong and as all powerful as we all hope. Yet, here we are. With love. Our love is made strong because of diversity. It doesn't diminish. All that happens is that we, like I have done on many occasions, doubted or questioned it. But it remains. It waits in the wings. Even in tragedy. Even in pain. It's there. Waiting for us to rediscover it again. Knowing full well that it's existence is made even stronger when we find it again and realise that through all our hardships and pain, love never truly left us.
On our wedding day the celebrant read to us an excerpt from Corinthians 1 Chapter 13. She asked us to read it on every anniversary. Sadly we never did probably because we felt we didn't need to. Now we never will but I have always remembered the words. But more, the part that she didn't read states: Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
Now, nearly a year on, I still may never understand the true depth of its meaning but I'm more than willing to believe in the ideal. Through our children and family and friends I will always find comfort in the words, love will prevail.
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