LIFE APART FROM HER WILL NEVER BE THE SAME

 

         They can be harder than you might think ……the times when I am required to imagine how the October people whose story I am telling will feel or react in the face of a particularly trying late-life situation.

        Consider for instance this bit from my Best Friends and Promises story. Aaron Peck has returned home after checking Leona, his wife of fifty years, into an Alzheimer’s ward. At that moment there was no escaping the truth of it. Pacing slowly from room to room he was struck by the emptiness that surrounded him, and the overpowering sense that he was alone in his new world, left to face the sad reality that life apart from her would never be the same.

At every turn, in every room, Arron was reminded of how much he missed Leona’s presence and the subtle interactions they had shared for so long…. the soft touches in passing, the seemingly unnoticed smiles, even the unspoken aggravation she could communicate with the simple arching of an eyebrow. 

In a particularly introspective moment he was overtaken by how much of their relationship had been played out below the surface….those times when their verbal interaction was little more than redundant phrases and muttered code words, each of them carrying a long-established significance, conveying volumes of meaning in a handful of syllables.

It was a hurtful thing, knowing that the personal dialect which had served them so well had ceased to be. The way they had communicated their love and caring for so long was no longer effective, as though he remained the only person left who spoke their dying language.”

    Rereading that scene for the first time in months I was struck by how frustrating it would be….trying to communicate a head full, or heart full, of feelings you want to express, when the one you want to hear your words will not hear them.

    In that case, what would we do with all these thoughts and words we wanted to speak? How could we set them free? If we are fortunate enough, there will be someone else to listen. If not, perhaps those heartfelt feelings will emerge as a prayer. For a storyteller like me those October Year insights often make their way into a story or blog post, to be shared in that way.

    And that is where I am today. For sixty-two years of marriage, Roma was the motor that kept our family running, the glue that held it together. Now she is gone. To be sure I am thankful that the painful curse of cancer has been overcome. I truly believe she has moved on to a better place. And along the way I am so grateful for the loving support of family and friends that surrounded her last days.

       Yet, there is no denying the sense of ‘aloneness’ I feel right now….the sad knowing that ‘life apart from her will never be the same.’ Truth to tell, she will always be a part of me. I will still converse with her, bouncing my sometimes maverick ideas off her, hoping for her caring input. 

    But now I, and the family, must learn new ways to follow the loving and graceful path she set before us.