I have this quiet philosophy. I believe that there are infinite parallel lives where a moment branched and a whole other life is played out differently elsewhere.
I don’t much entertain thoughts of most of these paths. Rarely do I wonder the discontentment of the Jill who didn’t get a divorce. Or the Jill who married the first guy she dated. But it does spark thought in my head randomly.
Last night Chris was on the brink of a grand mal seizure. He updated all the information I’d need for the doctors. He, for the first time in six and a half years, told me to call for an ambulance if he fell out. He felt one coming and we were as prepared as we could be.
I know too tho that if he were to have a grand mal like his last, it’s possible that would just be the end of him as I know him. Nothing prepares for that.
But as I stand here in my kitchen and he shaves in the bathroom, I’m reminded of my philosophy. Because somewhere, some Jill is living her worst day. Somewhere she hasn’t slept or is waking into the nightmare that her husband had a seizure that took him from her. And my heart hurts.
A few years back, I fell down a flight of stairs. When Chris opened the basement door to come after me, because of the position I was in, he thought I was dead. Sometimes I think about that Chris. The one in the parallel universe who lost Jill that night. My heart hurts for him too.
So today, I just feel immense gratitude. And every cell of my being honors the us on different branches, living out different lives, some immeasurably paralyzing, while others blissfully content. And I hope I remember too, in times of great darkness, that some me somewhere else is living out goodness and wishing me well.