One of the things that I truly despise about this walk with my unwelcome friend is the many, many things that you have done all your life that you are now suddenly no longer able to do. For me, several examples include woodworking, which I’ve done most of my adult life, taking long walks, solving complicated problems, even something as simple as completing a random sentence. And it’s always a surprise when you lose whatever the ability might be. For example, I have made mitered joints for my furniture projects for several decades, but no more. And it was a sudden loss. As in I had just completed 3 of 4 corners to be mitered for a project and started the 4th, I realized I had no idea of what I was supposed to be doing to that joint nor any idea of how to go about it if I did know what I was supposed to be doing. Just like that! POOF! My ability to complete that task was gone! Even though I had completed 3 other joints without any hesitation just minutes before.
My latest “loss” came last week. Many of you know that my elder son has taken me to the Jimmy Buffett concert, complete with tailgating, for Father’s Day for several years now. It’s something I start licking my chops about during the cold, snowy days of winter. That thought is one of the few things that can warm me in January and February. At least normally. This year, I found that same excitement early on. But as the concert date drew nearer, so did my dread and anxiety. So, about a month ago, after talking it over with my wife, we decided I should probably skip those activities this year. It was one of the worst decisions I’ve had to make in some time. But I know it was the correct one because I never regretted it, not even on the day of the concert. And I had the opportunity to change my mind because my son called the night before the concert to make sure I couldn’t go.
In truth, it’s not the concert I miss so much, I can always stream an album. It’s much more the day leading up to the concert spent tailgating. And that is not about the drinking, partying, etc... it’s more about the friends you’ve met at past concerts and only get to see again at next years concert, the absolute solidarity of an entire parking lot full of ParrotHeads; there are no politics or divisive subjects spoken here. Other than possibly which was the best song Jimmy ever released. And it’s the joy of watching those idiots during the concert. I love the costumes, the variety of ages (10-90), that everyone seems to know all the words to each and every song, even the new ones.
As much as I look forward to and enjoy all those things, they can’t hold a candle to what I’m actually going to miss the most. And that would be the time spent bonding with and getting to know my son all over again. Some of the best pictures we have together during his adult life came from these events. We’ve always been close but that closeness is much harder to maintain now. I get out very little and there’s no guarantee I can stay if I do go out. He has a full time job, a family, and a busy life of his own. Time together is becoming more and more precious. And this annual time that I could count on is now gone.
You know, it seems having a son living in the home with you, as our youngest does, would make it easier to maintain that closeness. But it honestly doesn’t. I find myself hoarding as much time with him as I can. Time is so fleeting now, I find every second of it with those I love is nirvana.
But the absolute worst is losing that closeness with the person who has been the love of your life since you were 14 and she 13. I’ve never been what you might call a talker, but now I’m almost mute. Trust me, that doesn’t aid in the maintenance of a relationship at all. Even a loving, understanding one. I rarely sleep in a bed anymore, I’m often in another world, I can’t follow the tales she loves to spin any longer, I no longer maintain the house, I need help with my meds,...so many, many things. And for her, I know it can’t be easy to care for me all day, watch my foolishness, answer the same question a thousand times...and then, suddenly pivot from caregiver to partner and spouse. It just seems you wouldn’t be able to see the person the same way anymore. Again, it really doesn’t aid in the maintenance of a relationship. Yet, there are so many things we CAN still do together. We can hold hands, watch a movie together, take an afternoon nap, sit on the deck, glass of tea in hand, late into the night staring at the stars and each other. So many things that are more than worth the effort to show love.
Boy, I really got off track from my original thoughts on this post didn’t I. But if you think about it, I suppose I didn’t. Truly, all these things are interconnected. Major things like no longer being able to attend the annual Jimmy concert and little things like not feeling up to going for a haircut with your son. It’s all so utterly important. Time is fleeting...
Hope you have a great evening.
Randy
