Henry is sick, he has strep throat.
Knowing that the illness was coming on last night Henry decided a bath was in order. I like to put lavender and marjoram in the tub when he is sick so I offered to draw the bath for him. He politely declined my offer and plodded off to the bathroom with a serious look and hunched shoulders, focused on his task. I had to look twice to make sure it wasn't Bob plodding off to that bathroom to heal himself in a big tub of warm sweetly scented water.
I was suddenly flooded with flashes of Bob and his silent plodding through all of the treatments that were thrown at him during that last year. Bob was no complainer. He was simply perplexed by his body's failure to comply to the desired outcome.
Henry's independent and no nonsense approach to his health is so much like his dad's was that whenever Henry is sick I have the sensation that Bob is walking around on the earth. I love these moments of recognition, as if Bob has inhabited his body for an instant, offering Henry his contemplative nature.
When Bob first died I felt like he took the best of me with him. Now, when I see his traits alive and well in Henry, I am reminded that Bob left the best of himself with us.
Thanks for checking in-