Visitations

My dear mother died in March 2007, from lymphoma that had gone undiagnosed and untreated for too long.  The loss of her felt sudden, and almost unbearable.  She and my father had the kind of marriage that inspired everyone they knew, and, in the months and years afterwards, I watched my dad with more care than before, wondering if he'd follow soon after.  To my quiet joy, he took pretty good care of himself, keeping doctor's appointments, going to church, staying social.  But in March 2012, he fell, cracking his pelvis and striking his head.  My sister found him in his den, conscious enough to ask her to call 911, but in bad shape.  Surgery and weeks of rehab could not restore him to his former self.  He longed to drive again, to retrieve his autonomy, but it was not to be.

I visited that Christmas and then again last year, by which time, he was enduring other ailments, including a bum knee that no one seemed to be able to diagnose or treat effectively.  One afternoon in early January, we were sitting together in his den.  He looked me straight in the eye and said "I don't like being 88, and I don't want to be 89."  "Okay, Dad, noted," was all I could say.

On Aging

Last night, the bus driver was telling me about his 93 year-old grandmother and some wise words she'd said to him a few years ago.  He said, "I'm just learning as I go." "We all are, I replied, no matter how old we get."

We're never just a finished product; we're in constant flux, mostly one of growth, but sometimes we shrink.  Pain-inducing information, negative interpersonal contact, ugliness, can cause a temporary withdrawal, but eventually we must return and connect with one another.

Birthday Boy

He would have been 58 years old today.  I can't picture what that age would look like on him.  He was ever-boyish, and very, very angry to be leaving life so young. He's here today, enveloping me in love and yearning.

Thursday Yearnings

Another flat gray sky this morning.  The fog will disperse in just a few hours, but it seems such a long wait for the promised sunshine and blue sky of the afternoon.  Does weather mimic mood?  So many people find the reverse to be true, but lately I can't help wondering: when I lighten up, will the day follow suit?