Escape to Nowhere

So today is Easter, which is a ‘holiday’ I have not much celebrated for quite some time, and am not really celebrating today.  Much like so many such days, I am alone, contemplating the whys and wherefores of having had my life burned to the ground 16 months ago tomorrow.

A few days ago, tired, sick and scared, I drove myself to the ER at the instruction of my doctor’s office. I was in pain and had evidence that I had some internal bleeding, which it turns out had occurred but had stopped by the day of the trip to the ER. After much testing and sitting around waiting, they were unable to tell me why I was in pain and urged me to have further testing in order to ascertain the cause of the bleeding, which had come and gone.

In the past, when either I or my beloved wife had any type of medical crisis, we were there for each other, could discuss how best to handle it, and would care for one another until the crisis had passed. And believe me, we had some doozies, including one instance where I had a major heart attack at the precise moment when her cancer recurred for the first time.  A scary narrative, to be sure, but we dealt with it, supported each other, and got through it.

It is impossible to describe the feeling of desolation I had Thursday morning walking into the ER.  The idea that had something more severe or debilitating happened, rendering me incapacitated, there would have been no one to notice until perhaps there was the ripe smell of decomposition coming from the house.  Since then I have tried to think if there is somewhere I could go where I might not feel so isolated, so on my own. There is not.

Make no mistake, I know there are many friends and family members close by that care a great deal, and who would go to extraordinary lengths to be helpful to me in any kind of emergency. But that is significantly different than being in the kind of marriage in which I was for 20+ years.  Never lonely, never isolated, never frightened. My friends and family have their own lives, their own families, and are not responsible for alleviating my sense of dread, my sense of isolation. That is not in their job description, nor should it be.

There is no good answer to this conundrum. It is one of life’s most horrific occurrences. There is nowhere to which to escape. Well, except perhaps one…

03-27-2016:MPC

A Question I've Never Asked Before?

     I was raised by parents who believed strongly in selflessness.  The theme of "not being selfish" was hammered home constantly, not only in words, but in deeds.  On Christmas Day, for example, we always opened up our home to the kids from a small orphanage in our neighborhood, and many of the gifts my sibs and I received would disappear. This was one of the ways in which we were taught to put others first.  It was difficult to grasp at first, but gradually I grew to understand the whole idea. And for me, the idea stuck.

     When I got to high school and college that ethos was further enshrined in the idea that "Your life is all about service to others". That is what the Jesuits taught us. And that dovetailed nicely with what I had learned as a small child.  I fervently hope that for the 65 years I have been on this earth that I have honored what I have been taught.

     However there is a problem inherent in this line of reasoning, especially if the reasoner is a black and white thinker, as I was for so many years. Thus "Your life is all about service to others" can morph into "Any attempt to think about or meet your own needs is selfish and therefore wrong". And that is what happened to me over time. This used to drive my beloved wife crazy. I used to marvel at her ability to know what she wanted and to articulate it. I could not do that. Slowly over time she tried, using some of her therapy skills, to get me to at least admit that I could not be useful to others if I were not useful to myself. In other words, as she used to say so eloquently, "How can you take care of me when you cannot take care of yourself".  I was, slowly and grudgingly able to evolve that far.

     Now I am alone, as all you faithful readers know, and trying to determine what I would like the rest of my life to look like.  I now have some idea as to why I cannot work out the answer to that important question with any degree of certitude. When you have spent a lifetime putting others first, not being concerned with your own needs, or your own comfort, and ignoring your own preferences, ultimately, those concepts become meaningless and you no longer can even determine a preference, or a desire, or even a need, much less ask for one.

     Like so much else in life, black and white thinking is no way to deal with complex concepts like altruism. It cannot be either/or.  It must be either AND.  I can be kind and thoughtful to others, AND be kind and thoughtful to myself. Furthermore when a conflict arises between the needs of others and my needs, I can then make a rational decision as to what to do.  Susan always tried to teach me that there is always a 'third thing'. It is very seldom ever a question of either/or.

     So now the question is floating around in my head, "What would make me happy?". Clearly having Susan back would be my first and unequivocal answer.  But that ain't gonna happen.  So I now I need to start thinking about the real answer.  I need to get a fix on my own preferences.  And where to go from here.

03-14-2016

What Still Remains

     A very dear friend of mine invited me to accompany her to a concert of the Irish musical group, the Chieftans the other night. The concert was amazing, and being about as Irish as they come, I found myself thinking to myself that music is one of the major things that has sustained me through my period of grieving.  Music is so intrinsic to the the culture of Ireland that it is thought of as "blood memory".  Like the wonderful Shawn Colvin song says " And if there were no music, I would not get through". And that, I think, is how I feel as well. There have been many times in the last few years that the only thing that separated me from the thin edge of despair was a beautiful piece of music.

     And thinking about that led me to thinking about some of the other things that have kept me going during a time when I did not necessarily want to keep going at all. Something as simple as a well written book, short story, poem, or even a nicely executed turn of a phrase can bring joy at the right moment.

     And so can mother nature.  I recently had the opportunity to visit my stepson and his wife in his home on the island of Kauai in Hawaii.  In addition, my two most long-term (I have been reminded not to say 'oldest') friends came with me and I have not been so relaxed in perhaps four years. And just sitting and listening to the pounding surf of mother Pacific brought a sense of peace.

    And finally, there are my wonderful friends and family.  The company, the conversation, the assurance that somebody gives a crap whether I show up or not, is immense.  Make no mistake, I still feel my loss deeply, miss my beautiful Susan every single minute of every single day with a sharp edge that seems often never to be dulled and I still exist in utter solitude more often than I would care to. But in that situation more than any other, I think we owe it to ourselves to look for what compensations life can provide. And there are many if you are open to them. As I have said many times to people: turn away no kindness, be open to everything. It may not take the pain away, but it very well may make it hurt less.

     And so I was visited by my poetry muse this week, along the lines of this discussion, and here is the result. Cheers, everyone.

Celebrate

There is much in life in which I can take joy.

The music remains, and still I can feel.

All its colors and shapes; its words and tone

It touches my heart with hope that is real.

Written words of beauty, they still abound

Those words on the page can make me smile

Or cry or laugh; so rich in thought, in style

That take me out of myself for a while.

And the sound of the surf on a Pacific beach

Takes me away to a place of peace

The sounds and smells of the mother sea

Allow me many a moment of surcease.

And friends and family still rally round

Helping me ever to see what is real

Showing me laughter, love and a path

To a place where I can once again feel.

And though my love has been taken away

Leaving a hole so deep wide and black

Much in this life is decent and good

To help me forget what it is that I lack.

MPC:03-08-2016