What Makes Life Tolerable or Even Happy?

                We’re inching up on the second anniversary of my beloved’s death (11-28) and I have discovered some interesting changes in how I view the situation.  Before I get into that, I recently came across another poem she had written to me some years ago:

every night

You love on me

hold me in my bed and tell me

you think I am wonderful,

the best,

or maybe the co-best.

It doesn’t matter if you are tired

or sick

or frightened.

You come to me each night and love on me,

making me happy and stronger

with each passing moon.

You cherish those things dear to me,

the same happy children,

the same destructive pets.

The same joy and humor

that brings laughter

to me, also brings

joy and laughter to you.

I don’t have to explain, you

pick up the song or the punch line.

It’s as if we’ve been practicing these lines

for the last

twenty-five years, and now

we have a place to use them. 

It’s like planting bulbs in the fall;

we are delighted in the spring

by the surprise recognition

of the plans we made coming to flower.  The

practice-loving we’ve rehearsed

has at last

found its mark.

I love you.

Needless to say,  I was deeply moved by finding this poem, and had a moment of tearful remembrance about what a wonderful woman Susan was, and how much I miss her.  But that moment quickly changed into something else. It changed into a very strong sense of gratitude.  I looked up at her picture on my wall and thanked her for her love, her respect, her regard and her partnership. Not everyone gets that. And while it may all have been snatched away somewhat prematurely, I had it. She had it. We honored and cherished one another right up to the end. And for that moment, I felt complete, I felt almost like she was still out there somewhere keeping an eye on me.  It was amazing.

Then I started to think about what keeps me going now that she is gone.  It boils down to two simple things: conversation and music. 

The interaction with other people that I love the most is good conversation.  I talk but mostly try to listen, hear what others have to say, what they think. That is how we learn, how we grow.  I am blessed with my 3 stepkids and their spouses with whom conversation is always a joy. Likewise, I am blessed with many friends, neighbors and family with whom conversation and company is a real blessing.  This sort of companionship, while it does not necessarily approach that of my marriage to Susan, is life-giving, sustaining and helps keep me sane and grounded.

And music. Music fills the hours of isolation with color and texture.  It lights up parts of my brain that nothing else can do with such efficiency. Right now, I am listening to a piece by the composer Ralph Vaughan Williams, a 20^th century British composer.  Hauntingly beautiful.  Emotive.

I do think that if I have enough conversation and enough music, that it will all be OK.

I know this is not something that will work for everyone in my position, but if you can figure out what elements of life will help you along, then you will find the key to going on and surviving the horrible things that can happen in life.

MPC 10-30-2016

 

A Widowers Search for Meaning in Life's Late Afternoon

This is a new blog. For those of you who followed my widower's journey, this will be a new experience. In this space I will try to make sense of this end of life's journey.  There is still much to do, and I do feel as though I can still be useful and make a contribution to life and to humanity.

I recently experienced a wrenching cardiac experience requiring a rather involved procedure. This came in the second year of grieving for my departed beloved wife.  There are many people who, throughout the process, expressed the idea that I had been through a lot these last years, and, while that may be true, I find myself not in the least depressed or feeling sorry for myself.

Life can be a battle sometimes. Life can deal some profoundly crummy cards. But just as often, if you are paying attention, it can deal some exceptional hands which, if played well, can be wonderful.  While I certainly miss my beloved wife to the core of my being, these days I am just as likely to have a happy thought about her as a sad one. Something funny she said, some endearing and lasting wonder of her magnificent personality. But as my friend Bob pointed out, the painful part of the loss seems to be getting further and further away. Also factoring into the 'loss' equation is the idea that it was an honor to be able to care for her when she needed me to. Perhaps that is why I was put here. Throughout our twenty some years together, she always made me want to be the 'best me' that I could, but while I cared for her, I really tried hard to be the 'very best me' I could be.  She deserved that.  I wanted her to know how much she was loved, respected, valued and cherished. And I do think I pulled it off.

So I can go forward with some level of equanimity. I can make decisions that even 6 months ago I could not. She will always be in my (somewhat troublesome) heart.

I will deal with many subjects in this blog, and I hope there will be some words in here that will be of value to all who read this.  I will deal with the practical as well as the existential.  The joyful as well as the sorrowful.

But for now, all I can say to all of you is thank you. Your kindness, your support, your friendship have brought me through. Through not only the death of my beloved, but also all the other bizarre traumas that life offers from time to time.  My only hope is that I will have the opportunity to return some of the magnificent favors you all have granted me.

Cheers,

MPC:10-16-2016