Love, Life, Joy, and Sadness

Sunrise, Sunset

Photo by Rachel Cook on Unsplash

The Upside Down and the In Between

I am back on Substack after a three week sabatical.  I have spent my time grappling with my “new, new normal,” wherein Mr. J may, or may not, be dying of an irreversible degenerative brain disease, or, in the alternative, may or may not be recovering from some unknown, unnamed malaise that brought us here.  It’s a weird spot to be in and my brain is still processing what this all means.   

Solstice Living: A December Decision 

I’ve spoken previously about Mr. J’s work on dealing with an undefined death sentence.  I have also worked out my own approach that I feel comfortable living with.  I am choosing to live solstice to solstice.  Having just observed the summer solstice, the decisions I make about Mr. J and I, and our life, is limited to the next six months.  In about October, I will extend to the summer solstice.  Then, in about April, I will extend to the following winter solstice.  (Note: This strategy, like all my strategies, is subject to change without notice.)  It’s working for me for now.   

Last December, in the spirit of solstice living, I made the decision that we would, in fact, travel an obscenely large distance in order to attend a friend’s destination wedding in June.  Because who knows how many opportunities we have left?  I bought the tickets and reserved the hotel with some trepidation.  What if, by that point, Mr. J was a complete jerk (an unfortunate but common side effect of the aforementioned degenerative brain disease).  What if Mr. J couldn’t remember how to put his pants on?  What if. . . ?  But I also knew “what if” included, “What if Mr. J was doing fine, or just slightly less than fine, and we didn’t take this trip because I thought he might be worse.”  So here we are, having arrived a few days ago.  It was a good decision. 

An Unexpected Text Message 

Saturday morning, I got an unexpected text from a very good friend who knew I was a half dozen time zones from home.  In fact, P and I had previously discussed her desire to join us for the trip, but it didn’t work out for dozens of reasons.  “Call as soon as you can,” the text message said.  This is not like P.  I rolled out of bed and called immediately.  “Well,” P said.  “Mr. J is going to live longer than one person we know.”  “What’s going on?” I demanded.  I imagined a diagnosis of cancer, a car crash, anything but what she said next.  “Mr. G died this morning.”  “What?” I said.  “How is that possible?”  A fairly stupid thing to say, to be sure.  But brains don’t compute in logic when death news arrives. 

“He woke up, he was acting strange, I called 911, and he was dead before he got to the hospital.”  “What can I do?” I asked.  Then remembered, that is the dumbest, most unhelpful thing anyone can say in this moment.  As my brain was computing this fact, P was saying, “Nothing, really.”  “I take that back!  I know what to do.”  Our friend R became a widower in April.  He lives in the southwest and a Native Shaman came to his house the day his wife died and performed a beautiful ritual, which he told both of us about.  “Open the windows,” I told P.  “Open all the windows.”  “That’s right,” she said.  “I forgot about that.  Thank you.” 

There Will Be Others 

I have written before about being told, post Mr. J’s diagnosis, that there would be others that would die before he did.  But I didn’t really process the sudden onset of an unexpected death of the husband of one of my best friends.  I am continuing to struggle with it.   

Good Advice I Wish I Had Thought of Earlier 

“I’m trying to figure out what to do with Mr. G’s medications,” P said in another conversation.  “Do yourself a favor,” the words spilled out of my mouth from who knows where.  “Do

you have access to pen and paper?”  Of course she did.  Because she is much more organized than I am.  “Write down, ‘Here’s what you can do’ and the next time someone says, ‘What can I do?’ give them the list and tell them to pick something.  Add ‘Get rid of Mr. G’s meds in a responsible manner’ to that list.”  “I’m trying to write that down,” she said, “but there are too many dirty dishes on the counter.”  “Put that on the list, too,” I said.  “Anyone can do your dishes.  You need to save your strength and energy for the things only you can do, and leave the rest to other people right now.”  Oh, how I wish someone had told me this in the winter of 2022. 

Back to the Wedding 

Mr. J and I agreed not to tell our friends who were getting married about Mr. G.  At least not until after their wedding day.  The wedding was beautiful.  Just a bunch of 50 something women in brightly colored dresses and 50 something men in Hawai'ian shirts and shorts, celebrating the love of two people in it for the long hall.  I will admit I got a little weepy and insisted Mr. J dance with me to some sappy love song.  As a general rule, we are not dancing people.  But the sight of these two happy people starting a marriage, coupled with the knowledge that another couple’s marriage was over, was unbearable both in the joy and the sadness.