Even as I write this, I pause frequently to dig deeper into both my conscious and subconscious mind. Still, they come so quickly and with such intensity, it becomes difficult to separate one impulse from another. This is why I have always appreciated the so-called stream of consciousness writers like Kerouac; if they felt it, they wrote it. Immediately.
Well, I'm no Kerouac and won't even try to be. But I'll do my best to share some of my more profound thoughts with you. Perhaps you will find some relevance.
First, don't cry for Stella. She lived and incredibly long life, passing just a few months short of her 100th birthday. And, for the great majority of that time, she experienced over-all good health and a full life, working while still raising a family. And she LOVED her family.
As my father, Joseph, died many years ago, I suppose that makes me an orphan at nearly 70.
And, although I made that statement with tongue somewhat in cheek, it is also having a profound effect on me now.
Even though I live a comfortable, almost privileged live, with a good roof over my head, a very adequate retirement fund that I worked a lifetime to achieve, a solid relationship with what's left of most of my family, a strong social calendar, and a wonderful woman to share the rest of my life with, there are times that I actually feel lonely.
Let me explain.
As I have also aged, with that aging comes the responsibility of taking YOUR turn to lead. I know that I have many people counting on me in many different ways. And I intend to deliver. It's my nature.
But, it also begs the question: where do I take my troubles when there is no one left to turn to?
You know, the type of things that ONLY your parents (if you had parents like mine) will understand, not judge, and give you the type of loving support only they can give. And, this is in no deference to your lover. It is important to share with them, too. However, there are truly some things that can only be understood by those who created you.
I don't have that anymore - and there are times that I could sure use it ( and please don't tell me to find god in religion)
I found myself in long, lonely conversations with them that are, generally speaking, one-way in nature! I suppose that means that they have planted the answers within me. I don't need to hear them again, only to accept them.
Still, I find myself in situations where I see something that Stella would like (like fresh plums from the farmer's market), thinking, "oh, I should get some for her", only to realize that she's not here.
The world keeps turning. Our immortality truly lies not in the erection of some marble statue in our honor, but in the little, daily memories that keeps someone alive in our hearts and minds.
There is one other recurring theme that keeps popping up into my head as well.
And, it ain't pretty - but it is REAL and doesn't HAVE to be a bad thing in the end.
When we're young, we are filled with images of death that are crafted to at least soothe the feeling of terror virtually every human being experiences at the thought of their own demise. It certainly still scares the shit out of me!
Most of these images are of our aging loved ones, at the end of their lives, grey, thin, and wasting, but still glowing, propped up in bed with comfy pillows and plush comforters, surrounded by appropriately somber loved ones. We held hands as our loved ones slowly and blissfully slipped into the other side.
What a crock of shit!!
Both of my parents met miserable ends.
My father died racked with the ravages of Alzheimer's, reduced to 114 lbs., virtually incapable of human communication.
He died in the middle of the night, alone, in a nursing home. We had no warning. I was informed by phone the next day.
My mother didn't fare much better. She spent the last year of her life bedridden, incontinent, insane, suffering from Lewy Body Dementia. If not for the herculean efforts of my older sister, she would have died in a nursing home, too. Instead, the small consolation was that she died alone in her sleep, but at least at home.
So, why share such terrible stories?
Well, it's not so much that I dwell on these things or use them to curry sympathy. That's not my style.
Rather, I'd like to share the positive that can be taken from such miserable situations. And that is to live life to the fullest EVERY DAY.
I know that we hear this so much that it is in danger of becoming trite. It can be - if you let it. Don't. Instead use it to look for the little(st) things that bring us pleasure, especially when WE ARE TOGETHER.
Moments don't have to be momentous to bring pleasure and memories that will last a lifetime - because we need them to.
DON'T WAIT. PARTICIPATE - IN LIFE!
