One day at a time

For the past week-plus I've been embroiled in a family medical issue. I'll not go into that here. Suffice to say we've had a few tense moments. But life goes on, and we must all learn to roll with what comes our way, working with it and/or through it.
If nothing else, the whole thing has left me feeling reflective. In that vein, my dear Supportive Partner Man (anchor of the sturdiest mettle!) and I have had quite a few give and takes this week about the role family plays in our lives.

Getting a laugh out of the parental units.

I must say that I know how exceptionally lucky I have been in terms of my family. Sure, we have bumps in the road -- whose family doesn't? -- but when it comes down to the nitty-gritty, we've got each other's backs. And that kind of love and unconditional support is everything. When there's an issue, we come together to handle it.
Even so, the players' roles shift as years pass.
In my mind's eye, my parents remain the very picture of indestructibility. Not perfection, mind you. The Old Man and St. Joan, by their own admission, have their flaws. They are, without question, the Battling Bickersons.
"I'm 80 years old," St. Joan opined one day last week. "I've got no regrets."
A perfect beat passed.
"Well," she continued, chucking a thumb at The Old Man, "maybe one."
Then she smiled at him. He just shook his head.

St. Joan being supportive
in my formative years.

After 61 years of marriage, this is their dynamic. St. Joan can be volatile, The Old Man longwinded. Both can be stupendously thickheaded. ... Stupendously. Thickheaded. (I'll admit that the apple didn't fall far from the tree, either.)
But their love and support of one other and their family remains unquestioned. No matter what happens down the road, I've know I've gotten to go through life with some really fantastic people around me.
And that, friends, is everything.
I have no answers for the meaning of life. At this moment in time, trying to figure out the "why" of it all has me completely at sea. Heck, I don't even have a clear, concise direction of where I want to take this particular blog post. I just had an itch to write it, because I'm one of those odd people who can best work out their feelings and thoughts by seeing them take shape as words crawling out across a computer screen.
I guess for the time being the best thing for me to do is keep channeling St. Joan's favorite observations: "One day at a time," and "If it's meant to be, it'll happen."
Wise woman, that one.