One More Sunset Together

At the end of a rare family walk the other night, we realized that a gorgeous sunset was about to happen. We decided to walk another few blocks to a spot where it could be seen and so Maya went running up ahead towards the park. A few steps in, I could tell that Sean was struggling physically. I asked if he’d rather turn around and go home and he said, “What if I never have another chance to watch the sunset with my daughter?” and so we slowly continued on.

My caregiver brain was racing. Do we ask that random guy on his porch for a ride home? Do we turn around right now? Do I call a neighbor to pick us up? What did he mean by “never have another chance”? Does he sense something about his health?

We got to the park just in time and it was beautiful, but I could only half-appreciate it as I watched him out of the corner of my eye, making sure he stayed upright. As soon as it was over, I told them both to stay put. I hot footed it back home, got the car, and zipped back to the park.

This picture is what I saw as I pulled up: my two loves, silhouetted against the sunset. And in that moment I was glad I hadn’t shut the whole idea down at the first sign that he wasn’t well. Whether there are dozens of sunsets together in our future or not, I’m glad we had this one together.