I saw this old urn at Jack’s Outback, I called Jack to order it before Maria could order it for me. Jack brought it over on Friday. We are putting in in the blooming Dahlia garden for now, it might end up in my study this winter. I wanted to give Maria a gift in appreciation for the love, support and wonderful care she has given me before, during and after my open heart surgery, I cannot imagine enduring this without her and I am immensely grateful and appreciative of her.

We have always loved one another, but in circumstances like this, one learns what love really means. I have always believed real love is selflessness, and that is what I have been seeing from Maria since I rode that ambulance to the hospital. She is running the farm, paying bills, shopping, cooking, cleaning and playing nurse to a partner who is not allowed to pick anything up, open a door or raise his arms over his head.

This urn has such great character, I knew she would love it. I call it the Gratitude Urn. Maria is a complex person, a true artist, these past few weeks have been hard on her, tougher for her than me, I think. It is always easy to be taken care of than to do the caretaking, I think. She has not been in her Studio for weeks, that Maria’s identity is very much tied up in her work, without it her life is out of balance. She has never been drawn to nursing or being a housewife, now she is both and the artist wants to come out.

At the end of the day I see her exhaustion, impatience and disorientation, and then guilt. Maria needs to get back to work and restore some balance to her life. When I met Maria, I knew from the first that our relationship would be a creative one, that my role was to support that suppressed creativity in her, I did not marry a nurse or a housewife, I do not wish to be taken care of or cleaned up after.

For all that, Maria is a sensitive and powerfully nurturing person, she is a wonderful nurse even if she is not a natural one. She is happy to do anything for me, I am careful not to ask for too much. I see her doing the things I usually do – cooking, cleaning dishes, and I wince. This is not the life she wants.

But still, hard times can be a gift. We have never loved one another more than we do now, or seen our love affirmed in a more profound and meaningful way. Gratitude, gratitude, gratitude. Jack says we can pain the urn if we wish, I doubt it.

Tomorrow is a landmark day for us, I am returning to my book first thing in the morning, she is putting her studio back together, she has some new ideas and of course, we both need to earn some money, just like everyone else. My recovery is far from over, it is, in fact, just beginning, but I think we can carve out time in the morning to make great stuff and send it out into the world. That’s the plan.

I am thrilled to see the Gratitude Urn in the Dahlia Garden, every time I see it I will think of our great love for one another, how she selflessly and completely turned herself over to me and my care when I was helpless and in great pain, how her presence guided me like a shining light through a difficult time. Real life is selfless for sure, and I am a lucky person to have it around me.

I think it