Marital Conflict

A couple of weeks ago, my dad pulled a muscle in his back, and was pretty much laid up for a few days.  My mom suffers from chronic pain, and dad usually helps her through her days.  He's sort of a cross between a butler, entertainer, and something they don't yet have a name for- a soother.  He just makes everything better by walking in the room.  He makes sure she eats even when she's not hungry, he brings her her medicine, and at night, every night, he rubs her legs down so she will be able to sleep.

So there they were one afternoon last week, the two blessed little things, trying to take turns standing up long enough to get a meal made.  Once they'd eaten, Dad forbid my mother to touch the dishes.  "I'll get them."

"Hon, you can't, you can barely stand.  I can do them.  They won't take that long."  my mom insisted back.

"No, now you don't need to be doing that!  I know you're in pain.  You need to go lie down, and I'll do them."  he argued.

Mom defied him, rattling away elbow deep in soapsuds, while her feet and legs screamed in protest.  Dad, from the living room, called out, "You'd better leave that stove alone!  You leave that for me!  Don't you touch it!  Don't you dare!"

Mom told me this over the phone that night, and I wanted to quit my job and move in with them immediately.  If I could, I would do it in a heartbeat.

After we hung up, I thought about them, seventy six and eighty years old, married for some fifty-six years, if I've done the math correctly, and their arguments have been reduced to who was going to take care of who; who is going to bear their own pain in order to lessen the other person's.

I thought it was the most beautiful thing I'd heard in quite some time, and I will always remember it.