Yesterday, I awoke to the fourth day of a migraine, Secret Asian Cat a half-inch from my face, and an epiphany.
As I lay there, staring at my cat, realization swept through me: in near-death, Hopkins had claimed his life. For good or ill, whether he's driven by hope, fear, or something that I can't name, he emerged on the other side of the diabetic coma with the will to keep living. He finally chose, and in that moment, took full possession of a life that's been anchored too long to expectations and goals that were never his.
It staggers me that in this single context, I've always been beyond slow on the uptake. However, when it hit me, I was truly happy. All of our lives, I'd waited for that moment to arrive- I sincerely wish it had been something a little less traumatic, but knowing him, it had to be for it to really 'take'. Whatever has happened since has really belonged to him.