So we are heading into winter, the time traditionally spent visiting the Underworld. The days are shorter. I went to work in the dark this morning. Not very fond of that. This is the time of year to stay indoors from the cold and snow. The time of year to go inside, deep into our inner sanctums. The perfect time to embrace grieving and loss, and all that accompanies that.
My dad cared for my mother for years before his death. He didn’t tell us kids she had dementia. We all lived far away. I visited once a year, twice a year during their last few years. One day, my dad had had enough. He bled out overnight in his recliner. He was going to have an endoscopy in two days for some unknown reason to us kids. He didn’t have to die, according to the docs. I think he just had had enough. I had pleaded with them for years to move into an assisted-living place to get help. But their privacy was more important to them. I pleaded with them to use visiting nurse services that were covered by medicare. My mother didn’t like them. She had dementia, and my dad was tired of fighting with her so he canceled the services. So I guess alone in their condo in Florida, he just decided to check out. I know this because he never in his life spent the night in his recliner. And he spent two nights this time. The first time he woke up still here, so he tried again the second night. We did not do an autopsy so we don’t know what caused his bleeding out. He was 93. Life happens.
Every so often I think about my dad caring for my mother when I see myself caring for my wife. She is in her right mind. She is not dying. But she takes a daily chemo pill to keep the cancer at bay. Her brain has been zapped with radiation 33 times in the past 6 years. She has memory issues, but is totally sound in her thinking. She is on disability. I work a 40-hour week so she can have good insurance until Medicare kicks in. That will be next summer. Then I will be free to look for a different job if I want. But I don’t know that I would have the energy to try to impress a brand new company. Caregiving is exhausting. We have only been married a year. Next week is our anniversary. Time with her is so precious. I hate that I have to be gone 10 hours a day to make the money work. So I don’t take a whole lot of time for me alone because I have so little of my day available for time with her. Which is partly why I am just getting around to dealing with the death of my parents from 3 years ago. I think about how my dad had no time for himself, but it had been that way for so long, I think he had forgotten how. On one of my visits I offered him some time to himself. I would hang with my mother and he could go out and do whatever he wanted. He turned me down. He said, “What would I do?”
I don’t want to become my dad. My dog forces me to go out without my wife. She has only one lung and can only do smaller, flat walks. My big dog and I go hiking up mountains. Endorphins are a beautiful thing. I sneak hikes in first thing in the morning on weekends when she is still sleeping, when the weather is good. Otherwise I just do a brief walk down the road mornings before work. But lately I haven’t had the energy to do it. This grief thing just saps me of all inspiration. I weigh more than I ever have. Grief on top of post-menopause is frightening. I refuse to buy another size up. And so this winter I will curl up in a ball in front of my wood-burning stove and completely embrace these feelings of loss, meaninglessness, etc., while still needing to be a positive companion to my wife with her long laundry list of ailments. Yeah, good luck with that.