We never made it to Grand Cayman

If you knew exactly what your future held, and it included as much excruciating sorrow as it did immense joy, would you choose it anyway? If you were given the choice, and you had to take both or neither, would you say yes? Spoiler alert. I am mulling this over after watching, The Arrival. Not necessarily a question I expected to come from a movie about the arrival of aliens on Earth.

But I did sit with this for a few days, and my answer remains the same. Yes. I’ll take the sorrow with the joy. Of course, none of us knows specifically how our future unfolds. However, as I was processing this movie, I remembered a choice that I made when Tim and I had been dating for only five months.

Tim had made plans for our first big trip together. Five nights in Grand Cayman. We were both excited. Early in love. Still getting to know each other. Heading to a place we could enjoy the sun and relax. Well, we never went. We decided to cancel our flight just a few hours ahead of departure.

Two days earlier, Tim had started experiencing an increased, sustained heart rate. This wasn’t entirely new to him. He suffered from a condition called Atrial Fibrillation. This was the first I had learned of it though.  I was first given the full details from the vantage point of a medical professional. Okay, an increased risk of heart failure or stroke. There were a variety of treatments including medication, ablation and some new surgical advancements on the horizon.

And then I was provided the personal perspective from Tim that sounded something like this. “You know, I may have a shortened life. But if I live to 60, I will be happy with that anyway. Aging is overrated.”

Now, when you are already 35 years old, and newly in love, it is not an easy thing to consider. Are you willing to get deeper into a relationship with this person? You may want to spend the rest of your life with him, and he is specifically, and calmly, telling you he anticipates dying young? We would only have 20 years together. I would be a fifty-five-year-old widow. I was upset, and I let Tim know it. I was scared. I was uncertain. He reassured me – he wasn’t concerned and planned to have a good life, regardless.

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After this conversation, I went for a run. I cried. I talked to myself. I cleared my head. I asked questions and answered those questions. This was a milestone moment for me, and for our relationship. Well, I stayed in it, of course.

He did have a good life. And because of his heart condition, it included 6 cardioversions and two ablations, the last one of which, an 8-hour procedure, was the great advancement that had been on the horizon years earlier. The last ablation stuck, and he had a really good run with no heart irregularities after that. Ultimately, that isn’t what shortened his life. And ironically, he didn’t even make it to 60, and I was a 52-year old widow.

So, there you have it. We do make choices about our future based on the information we have in front of us. These choices are important. They certainly shape our world, take us down paths, and determine the kind of life we lead. But, even then, we don’t KNOW our future. Even if we think we do. Even if we plan it. Even when we choose it.

We make choices daily that determine our future. Mostly small and without a lot of thought. I don’t think those small ones are any less important than the big ones. And if you believe you are on a soul ride in this lifetime, you might even feel that your path is ultimately inevitable. I personally think, to a degree, that is true. But even then, we have many lessons to learn and different ways of taking them on. So, I am glad I chose the path that included Tim. Even now, knowing how it would go, I would choose it again. We enjoyed many great travels together, and we never made it to Grand Cayman. But I suspect that Tim has found his way there.