We had a wonderful last trip to France in April. We both had a strong notion it would be his last trip abroad, and so we wanted to go to the land he loved the most. Parts of the trip were difficult; driving all over Normandy was nightmarish and exhausting, particularly for me because I was the one driving. He'd lost the ability to drive the year before.
Still. We spent time with friends in their idyllic country home outside of Strasbourg, being shown many little villages and farms within a day's drive. A ancient castle, too, and a grouping of houses built into the side of a mountain of rock. We shared Easter with them and their extended family and truly felt at home. Imagine. Easter in Alsace-Lorraine, eating traditional pastries and local cheeses and honey.
Although he had his diagnosis and was slowing down, he was up for the trip. We flew first class for the comfort. We took our time, and we saw a lot. We returned home very happy. At least I was. I didn't know what was to come in June.
It happened, and I left. It was pure anguish for the both of us.
He let me know yesterday that he will be moving to Assisted Living, and he could barely speak -- a gravely set of words said over the phone. And then the call cut out. I called him back and he didn't answer. I went limp.
I've spent so much time being angry with him, blaming him and cursing him. Today, after his call, my chest caved, and tears rolled down my cheeks and the dog looked at me like, "what happened to you, lady?" I've spent the time since that broken call finishing my novel, "The Book woman of Troublesome Creek," loading the dishwasher for another round, calling Home Depot to check on the status of a delivery and other such mundane tasks. The tears continue their roll...I cannot stop them.
I watched an interview between Stephen Colbert and Anderson Cooper about grief. Grief can be about death (as in the case of this video) or other kinds of endings, like marriages. Stephen's outlook on life is so raw and real (and compassionate), and it stems from his Catholic upbringing but is also, as he states, a central tenet of Buddhism as well: life is suffering. It truly is. And if we know this down to our bones (or our soul) we can embrace that, and embrace all the miraculously good things that come to us in this life as well.
Which brings me to my final thought: My marriage may have ended in a really shitty way, but that doesn't change the fact that I had six years of living and loving well, and for that I am extremely grateful. My old love, a very proud and accomplished man, is in a real predicament now, and he is suffering mightily. So I cry for him and his pain. I cry for myself, and I cry for what might have been. I turn, once again, to Pema Chodron's book, "When Things Fall Apart." I go forward. There is no other choice.
This is so sad, Tara. I so feel for you and for your old love. Yes, grief comes after endings of all kinds. When we say our good-byes, our hearts break at the unforgettable moment. I so hope that the calm comes after the sad storms for both of you.
ReplyDeletethank you, Robin. Calm will come, the ache will become softer. the dam just broke, once again. looking at it all from my age and experience, i do know it will get better. it's just so damned sad right now.
DeleteThat was quite heart rendering, I hope you come through all this
ReplyDeleteNice to see you here, sir! I will come through all this, that I do know. You don't get to be an older person without seeing and experiencing your fair share of pain and suffering.
DeleteI cried for you both too :(. Life can sometimes be so incredibly cruel
ReplyDeleteThanks for this, Rain. I heard from someone yesterday who said this kind of break up is not uncommon -- especially for people with cognitive issues. It made me feel somewhat better about my situation.
DeleteYour tears are sacred, as is your final thought. Sending love to you and to your old love as you both go forward.
ReplyDeleteToday I am recalling that you have an affinity for Our Lady of Guadalupe, appreciating the comfort she offers to those who grieve.
Sometimes a good long cry is just the thing you need. I've often envied other women who cry more easily then I do. Perhaps they envy those of us for whom the tears come less often. At any rate, I do believe that giving in to the tears is helpful and cleansing, even if it does upset our canine friends. You are on the right path...moving forward however long it takes.
ReplyDeletethank you so much for your comment. However long it takes is right...I had another good cry this morning, then brushed myself off, wrapped presents and took the dog for a walk. Later, I'm joining my Real Estate agent for a drink and a nibble at a nice place in town. Even if I don't particularly feel up to it. She's a very nice woman and did a great job for me, and I'm finally taking her out to show my appreciation. Step by step, row by row.
ReplyDelete