Lover's Key, Florida

Lover's Key, Florida
I WILL FIND OTHER SEAS.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Looking Back

Lately I've been looking back at some of my earlier postings.  It's interesting to notice how the topics of concern shift over time--or don't change at all.  One thing that doesn't change is the sense of bewilderment, bordering on befuddlement, that continues to tinge everything I do.  At times it's like I'm wandering about in a place where the landmarks all look familiar, but none of them make any sense.  It isn't a foreign place, it's a place I'm accustomed to, it just doesn't feel like I belong there.

Yesterday we had such a nice visit and meal with Bob's sister, Kathie, and her husband, Tom, and their two children, Hannah and  Megan.  They were gracious and welcoming and the meal was terrific.  Yet, at times I found myself disconnecting from all that was going on.  I would be reminded that the last time we were at this place Gwen was with me, and there was no disease, no wheelchair, no thinking about dying.  At one point I found myself staring out a window at the cold rain that was falling, and, for a moment, desolation was everywhere.  Then, always the miracle of Gwen's felt presence, Jeanne, my daughter, stood beside me and put her hand on my back; "Are you all right, dad.?"  was all she said, but it was everything.  She is, after all, a direct link to her mother.  I immediately felt comforted.   Where were we here?  Oh, politics seem always to be on the front burner at these gatherings, and this was no exception.  Today's topic:  Is it deliberate amnesia or willful ignorance that plagues the body politic?  Hmmmm. . . that will take some discussion.  When we left, there were hugs all around; again, the sense that those who are younger seem to have an intuitive sense of my pain, I can see it in the warmth in their eyes and of their hugs.

 I've tried to capture what it feels like to live what at times seems to be two lives.  There's the public "I'm fine. See, nothing's bothering me." person who knows how to navigate social settings, and then there's the "Gosh, will this ever end?  Maybe I don't want it to end." person who hasn't a clue about how to navigate through the turbulent seas in which he finds himself.   I deliberately  put this  in the first person because it feels that way, as though one is observing oneself.

Thank you, Dear, for the loving kindness of children who show me they care

2 comments:

BForever said...

Indeed, thank you Gwen.

Am I truly a Widow? said...

What a lovely way to pull it together and express how it feels. Yes, it does feel strange. Thank-you.