A Beating Heart

One of my favorite sounds in the world is the sound of my husband’s beating heart. I love to feel the steady rhythm against my face as I listen to the strong repetitive sound of life.

The heart is a funny thing. So strong, so vulnerable. Its job is to sustain life and yet without life, sustaining it, it will fail.

This year has been one of vulnerability. In February, my sweet MIL suffered from dangerous heart patterns that ended with a life-saving bypass. A few months later, I was in the cardiologist office, discovering small and, thankfully, insignificant irregularities. Although it was nothing serious, I certainly felt the fragility of this amazing organ. Only a few months later, my BIL was in the hospital with heart arrhythmias. He gave us a scare but things were brought under control and he was released with no serious events. Only this last week, my FIL entered into cardiac care after experiencing some frightening symptoms. After showing large amounts of blockage, they are opting for a stint to be placed in his arteries. With my husband already on cholesterol medicine, I would be dense not to see the developing pattern.

To drive the point home even more, as we were walking into the room where my FIL was, we passed the “purple zone.” Like the tide filling a depression in the sand, memories came flooding back into my mind in vivid detail. The “Purple Zone” is where my mom passed away almost 3 years ago. I stared at her “room” and remembered watching her heart rhythms as she faded into another world.

I suddenly felt very small in a very big world. And thought how grateful I am for a beating heart.