Loving Muriel 爱着穆丽尔
“I shall love you in December with the love I gave in May.”
-John Alexander Joyce
“我会在十二月爱你，用我五月给予的爱。”
――约翰？亚历山大？乔伊斯
Seventeen summers ago，Muriel and I began our journey into the twilight.It's midnight now，at least for her，and sometimes I wonder when dawn will break.Even the dreaded Alzheimer’s disease isn't supposed to attack so early and torment so long.Yet，in her silent world，Muriel is so content，so lovable.If she were to die，how I would miss her gentle，sweet presence.Yes，there are times when I get irritated，but not often.It doesn't make sense to get angry.And besides，perhaps God has been answering the prayer of my youth to mellow my spirit.
Once，though，I completely lost it.In the days when Muriel could still stand and walk and we had not resorted to diapers，sometimes there were“accidents”.I was on my knees beside her，trying to clean up the mess as she stood，confused，by the toilet.It would have been easier if she weren't so insistent on helping.I got more and more frustrated.Suddenly，to make her stand still，I slapped her calf-as if that would do any good.It wasn't a hard slap，but she was startled.I was，too.
Never in our forty-four years of marriage had I ever so much as touched her in anger or in rebuke of any kind.Never.I wasn't even tempted，in fact.But now，when she needed me most……Sobbing，I pleaded with her to forgive me-no matter that she didn't understand words any better than she could speak them.So I prayed and said how sorry I was.It took me days to get over it.Maybe I bottled those tears to quench the fires that might ignite again some day.
A young friend recently asked me，“Don't you ever get tired？”“Tired？Every night.That's why I go to bed.”“No，I mean tired of……”and she tilted her head toward Muriel，who sat silently in her wheelchair，her vacant eyes saying，“No one at home just now.”I responded to my friend，“Why？No，I don't get tired.I love to care for her.She's precious.”
Love is said to evaporate if the relationship is not mutual，if it's not physical，if the other person doesn't communicate or if one part doesn't carry his or her share of the load.When I hear the litany of essentials for a happy marriage，I count off what my beloved can no longer contribute，and then I contemplate how truly mysterious love is.
What some people find so hard to understand is that loving Muriel isn't hard.They wonder about my former loves-like my work.“Do you miss being president？”a university student asked as we sat in our little garden.I told him I'd never thought about it，but，on reflection，no.As exhilarating as my work had been，I enjoyed learning to cook and keep house.No，I'd never looked back.
But that night I did reflect on his question and prayed，“I like this assignment，and I have no regrets.But if a coach puts a man on the bench，he must not want him in the game.You needn't tell me，of course，but I'd like to know-why didn't you keep me in the game？”
I didn't sleep well that night and awoke contemplating the puzzle.Muriel was still mobile at that time，so we set out on our morning walk around the block.She wasn't too sure on her feet，so we went slowly and held hands as we always do.This day I heard footsteps behind me and looked back to see the familiar form of a local derelict behind us.He staggered past us，then turned and looked us up and down.“Tha's good.I likes'at，”he said.“That's real good.I likes it.”He turned and headed back down the street，mumbling to himself over and over，
“Tha's good.I likes it.”
When Muriel and I reached our little garden and sat down，his words came back to me.God had spoken through an inebriated old derelict.“It is you who is whispering to my spirit，'I likes it，tha's good，'”I said aloud.“I may be on the bench，but if you like it and say it's good，that's all that counts.”
People ask me，“How do you do it？”Praise helps-Muriel is a joy to me，and life is good to both of us，in different ways.And we have family and friends who care for us lovingly.
Memories help，too.Muriel stocked the cupboard of my mind with the best of them.I often live again a special moment of love she planned or laugh at some remembered outburst of her irrepressible approach to life.Sometimes the happy doesn't bubble up with joy but rains down gently with tears.In the movie Shadowlands，when Joy Gresham reminds C.S.Lewis that their joy would soon end，that she would die，he replies that he doesn't want to think about it.Joy responds，“The pain is part of the happiness.That's the deal.”
Muriel hasn't spoken a coherent word in months-years，if you mean a sentence，a conversation-though occasionally she tries，mumbling nonwords.Would I never hear that voice again？
Then came February 14，1995.
Valentine's Day was always special at our house because that was the day in 1948 that Muriel accepted my marriage proposal.On the eve of Valentine's Day in 1995，I bathed Muriel，kissed her good night and whispered a prayer over her，“Dear Lord，you love sweet Muriel more than I，so please keep my beloved through the night；may she hear the angel choirs.”
The next morning I was peddling on my exercise bike at the foot of her bed and reminiscing about some of our happy lovers'days long gone while Muriel slowly emerged from sleep.Finally，she popped awake and，as she often does，smiled at me.Then，for the first time in months she spoke，calling out to me in a voice as clear as a crystal chime，“Love……love……love.”
I jumped from my cycle and ran to embrace her.“Honey，you really do love me，don't you？”Holding me with her eyes and patting my back，she responded with the only words she could find to say yes.“I'm nice，”she said.
Tha's good.I likes it.
十七年前的夏天，我和穆丽尔开始了我们人生的曙光之旅。现在是最艰难的子夜时分，至少对她是，有时我也会想天什么时候破晓。即便是可怕的阿尔茨海默病，也不应该侵袭的如此之早，折磨的时间如此之长。然而，在她安静的世界里，她是那么满足，那么的可爱。如果她死了，我会多么怀念与她在一起时的温柔和甜蜜呢！是的，有时候我会变得急躁、易怒，但不经常。有什么理由发脾气呢？况且，也许这是上帝在回应我年轻时的祷告，让我变得更加成熟。
但是，有一次，我一点也没控制住自己。在穆丽尔还能站立、走路的时候，我们没有用尿布，有时候就会发生“事故”。我跪在她旁边的地板上，手忙脚乱地试图擦洗地板上的糟秽，她站在厕所旁，茫然无措。如果她不是要坚持帮忙的话，事情还不会那么糟。我变得越来越沮丧，突然，就在我让她站稳的时候，我打了她小腿一下――好像那会让情况有任何好转似的。我打得倒不重，但是，她着实吓了一跳，我自己也是。
在我们四十四年的婚姻生活中，我从来没有像这样对她发火或以任何形式责怪过她。从来没有，实际上，我甚至连那样的冲动也没有过。但是，现在，在她最需要我的时候……我哭了，请求她原谅――尽管像不能说话那样，她其实也根本听不懂别人说话。我祈祷，告诉上帝我有多愧疚。我花了好几天时间才平复下来，也许，我把那些眼泪保存了下来去浇熄哪天可能再次燃起的怒火。
一个年轻的朋友最近问我，“难道你都不疲倦吗？”“疲倦？每天晚上都会，所以我要睡觉啊。”“不，我是说疲于……”说着她把头朝穆丽尔斜了一下，这时，穆丽尔正安静地坐在轮椅上，茫然的眼睛里写着，“现在家里没人。”我回答朋友，“为什么这么问，不，我不觉得疲倦。我喜欢照顾她，她是我的宝贝。”
如果爱情不是双方面的，非肉体的，如果另一方不作交流，或者一方没有承担自己的一份责任，爱会消失。我听到很多关于幸福婚姻必备因素的说辞，还掐指算了算我爱人不能再履行的因素，这让我不禁沉思，爱情真是个神秘又奇妙的东西。
让很多人感到费解的是，其实爱穆丽尔并不是一件难事。他们提及我以前的一些爱好，比方说我的工作。“你想念当主席的时候吗？”和一个大学生坐在家里的小花园里时，他这样问我。我告诉他，我从来没有想过这个问题，但是，想一下的话，答案是不想念。就像工作曾让我振奋快活一样，我喜欢学着做饭、收拾家务。不，我从不回首从前。
但是那天晚上我的确思索了他的问题，还进行了祈祷，“我喜欢这项任务，而且无怨无悔。但是，如果教练让一个队员坐板凳的话，他肯定是不想让这名队员参加比赛。当然了，你没必要告诉我，但是，我自己想知道为什么你不让我继续比赛了呢？”
那晚我没睡好，醒来时还在想着这个问题。那时候，穆丽尔还能动，清晨我们会出门绕着楼群散步。她站不太稳，所以我们走得很慢，像通常那样手牵着手。那天我听到身后有脚步声，回头看到这一带一个流浪汉的熟悉身影。他踉踉跄跄地经过我们，又回头上下打量我们。“那很好，我喜欢那样。”他说。“那真的很好，我喜欢。”他转过身，沿街向前走去，一遍一遍地喃喃自语。
“那很好，我喜欢那样。”
我和穆丽尔回到家里的小花园里坐下来，他的话再一次回响在我耳边。上帝通过一个喝得酩酊的老流浪汉传递了他的谕意。“是你在对我的灵魂低语，'我喜欢那样，那很好'”我大声地说。“也许我坐在了长凳上，但是如果你喜欢，说这样好，这就足够了。”
人们问我，“你是怎样做到的呢？”赞扬不无裨益――穆丽尔让我感到快乐，对我们俩来说生活都是美好的，只是方式不一样。而且，我们的家人和朋友都挚爱我们，关心我们。
回忆也很有帮助。穆丽尔在我的记忆柜橱里储存了最好的东西。我经常会再一次沉浸在以往爱情的某一个特定时刻，或者想起她生活中的某些做法和片段，仍然忍俊不禁。有时这种幸福不会像泡沫般轻盈、快乐，而是化为泪水，潸然而下。电影《虚幻国度》里，卓伊？格雷善姆提醒刘易斯，他们的快乐很快就会结束，她将死去，他回答说他不愿想这件事。卓伊说，“痛苦是幸福的一部分。世事本就如此。”
穆丽尔已经好些月，好几年没有说过一个连贯的词了。如果你是说一句话、一番交谈，虽然她偶尔也试图张口过，但咕哝含糊，根本听不出是词语。难道我再也听不到那个声音了吗？
后来，到了1995年2月14日。
情人节在我们家总是很特别，因为那是1948年穆丽尔接受我的求婚的日子。1995年情人节的前一晚，我给穆丽尔洗了澡，亲吻她晚安，还在她身旁做了祈祷，“亲爱的上帝，你比我更爱可爱的穆丽尔，所以请你让我的爱今夜安眠；让她听到天使们的歌儿。”
第二天早晨，我一边在她床旁蹬健身车，一边回忆我们很久以前度过的甜蜜情人节，这时，穆丽尔慢慢从睡梦中苏醒。终于，她醒清了，像通常一样朝我微笑。接着，几个月来她第一次开口说话了，用像水晶钟奏出的清脆声音般向我召唤，“爱……爱……爱。”
我从健身车上一跃而起，跑过去拥抱她。“亲爱的，你真的爱我，对不对？”她深情地注视着我，轻轻地拍了拍我的背，然后用她惟一能说出的话作出了肯定的回答，“我很好。”
“那很好，我喜欢那样。”
译者感言
“我愿意她（他）成为我的妻子（丈夫），从今天开始相互拥有、相互扶持，无论是好是坏、富裕或贫穷、疾病还是健康都彼此相爱、珍惜，直到死亡将我们分开。”虽然很多人认为这段誓词已经过时，西方也兴起更改结婚誓言的潮流，但我一直感觉这段才是对爱情最美、最醇、最暖的一段表达，是多少人心底永恒的期待，一如中国的古话：死生挈阔，与子成悦，执子之手，与子偕老。本文就用朴实的语言诠释了这样的爱情。当厄运不期而至，世俗的眼界和软弱的心灵会让爱情变得苦涩不堪，而相通的灵犀和坚定的相守依然会让爱情的嘴角扬起沁人的微笑。“那很好，我喜欢那样。”老人心底的那份儿幸福哟……千古红尘，人似蜉蝣。哲人说过：永恒的爱是永远恪守最初的诺言。经历了岁月的淘洗、人生的磨砺，爱情会成为柴米油盐、鸡皮鹤发，然而你收获的会是不枉人世一遭儿的不朽真情。
