I’m rather relieved the month of August is over. I never liked its uncomfortable humidity, its lack of intellectual activity, its dormant emptiness, its languid raison d’être – at least for people like me who detest the mere thought of the interruption of a structured life, bereft of a period of enforced hibernation.
For me, this August is the worst I can remember. My life is no longer what it used to be. My wife is going through a period of great stress and needs unbridled attention throughout most hours of the day and night. I have become a reluctant prisoner, a recluse who can hardly participate in events that require my presence in pursuit of what I consider the progression of destiny.
Love and loyalty can never be a subject for bargaining. It is either inherent in your genes or not. You suffer in silence if you belong to the former and care deeply about the person whose love has sustained you for most of your life. And, is now in urgent need of your help and attention. But you always anticipate the worst. You know that this predicament is hard to resolve. It becomes a part of your existence and you have no alternative but to adjust to it, whatever the sacrifice.
You pray that your own health will enable you to carry out the responsibilities required of you. Inwardly, however, you feel it’s a crusade without which your life becomes meaningless and, despite your old age, you nevertheless have to fight these new, unforeseen elements to survive the vicissitudes of time.
For, ultimately, hope is the true elixir that keeps you going in these tumultuous circumstances.