Two Roberts

 

(I wrote this in September, right after Bennett was born.  I saved it hoping that I could improve on it, but I can't figure how I ought to change it.  It feels incomplete, but still, it's how I felt at that time.)

This week I’ve had two Roberts in my life.  One at the beginning, and the other nearing (perhaps) the end of life.  There is a lot of uncertainty.

There’s a lot of uncertainty with pregnancy too.  When will the baby come?  Will it be early or late?  To be sure, there are signs of imminent delivery, but there are many days that could be the day.  Will it be a long labor or a short one?  Will there be a c section or a natural delivery?  Will the baby be ok?  You just have to live every day prepared.

When I was pregnant, as I grew larger and larger, I began to dread the day that I would be required to push this child out of me.  It began to look impossible, and like something I didn’t want to experience.  Not that there was any choice in the matter, but I remember wishing there was some other way.  But of course, I had been told that in the end, it was  all worth it because I would have my precious child in my arms, who was worth any amount of difficulty.  And what I had been told was true.  It was definitely worth it.

As one nears the end of life, there are a lot of uncertainties.  We know the outcome without doubt:  we all die.  It’s universal; there’s no question.  But how?  And when?  Will we live our final days in pain?  Will death come suddenly or will it creep upon us slowly?  We don’t know.  We only know that when it is all said and done, we will emerge, like the child, on the other side in a much better place.  We will find that whatever suffering preceded our transport, it was all worth it for the joy we will know then.

Little Bennett Robert took his first breaths last week.  Bennett sleeps a lot and has very little to say.  He’s not very strong yet and needs lots of help.  What will the future hold for him?  He will learn to walk and talk and read and write.  Eighty-four year old Robert Dudley has done all those things.  His is a life well-lived.  He has lived and loved and served.  But now, he speaks less clearly, moves with more difficulty, and sleeps more than he is awake.  

They are a lot alike:  Robert Dudley and Bennett Robert.  Both are on the same journey we call life.  The beginning looks a lot like the end, doesn’t it.  Maybe because both are on opposite sides of a door.