Friday nights continue to be difficult. My mind and heart go back to the time, now almost 50 years ago, when I would end a busy work week and drive to Gaastra to spend the weekend with Gwen and her parents and Patti. Those were always such joyous reunions--I can still see her waiting at the door to greet me with a hug and a kiss.
Fast forward to 2010, an unusually warm and beautiful day in November, I come home from the golf course and find Gwen resting comfortably. She greets me and says she is happy to see me. We enjoy the mango/pineapple smoothey I brought home for her, and then she begins to cough; things go downhill from there, and Friday night now becomes a time when, rather than greet the love of my life joyfully, I sadly say goodbye to her; never again to see her on this earth.
Gee this sounds so melodramatic; yet, I think that all the ordinary people living ordinary lives have similar stories to share. Shortly after Gwen's death, our son, Mike, said to me, "Dad, death is very democratic." There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think of those words. I've also come to the realization that, in spite of the temptation to fixate on the ugly finality of death on that one Friday night, all those joyous Friday reunions are also part of Gwens' and my story, as are the countless joys we shared during all of our life together. Death ends; love lives on. Death cannot destroy the happiness seen in the pictures posted on this page.
Today was also a day of inspiration for me. One of my friends, Jeff, from a caregiver group that I attended for the duration of Gwen's illness, invited me and Ed to play golf with him and a friend. It was at a course we hadn't played before, so we quickly agreed to play. The weather was great, and I played better than I'd ever played before on a challenging course, but the real inspiration came from meeting and playing golf with Jeff's friend. He was a successful lawyer until a rare illness overtook his body and what began as a lung infection ultimately caused him lose his extremities. He has no fingers and wears prostheses on his legs, yet plays golf in the 90s. He has a superb sense of humor, we talked about the Tiger game last night and how nerve-wracking it was, and he said that he not only chewed off his fingernails, but also his fingers. Just a wonderful person to know.
It is always heartening for me to talk with not only relatives, but also friends who knew Gwen as she really was. Jeff was always a special, loving and caring person for Gwen and me. On cold winter nights, when we arrived for the meeting, he was always at the door, eager to help Gwen get into her wheelchair. After the meeting was over, he was also there to help Gwen get back into the car. Today he commented on the dogged determination with which Gwen attended those meetings with me. "The two of you were an inspiration to us all," he said. Now I feel blessed in being able to provide comfort and support for him as he helps his wife in her ongoing battle with cancer. I find that to be so comforting.
An interesting sidelight to today had to do with the fact that midway through the first nine holes Ed discovered that he had lost his new Droid Cell Phone. Understandably, he became distraught, and did not play the second nine holes. This evening he called to tell me that someone on had found his phone on the golf course and turned it in at the pro shop. Needless to say, he was tremendously relieved. Anyone who has ever looked for a lost golf ball can appreciate how low the probabilities are that someone would find a cell phone buried in the grass. A happy ending to a distressing events.
Tomorrow it will be nice to look forward to a Saturday without a football game at home. I won't know what it's like to just lie around the house and get caught up on chores.
Sunday is your birthday, Dear; it will be a day to celebrate, as is written on the candle holder that Mario and Flo sent us: "a life beautifully lived and a heart deeply loved." Today I was once again reminded of the lasting impact you've had on those who knew and loved you, and, along with that, of my intent to honor you with this blog. On this Friday night I celebrate and give thanks for the mystery of the gift of the love we shared. It lives on.
Fast forward to 2010, an unusually warm and beautiful day in November, I come home from the golf course and find Gwen resting comfortably. She greets me and says she is happy to see me. We enjoy the mango/pineapple smoothey I brought home for her, and then she begins to cough; things go downhill from there, and Friday night now becomes a time when, rather than greet the love of my life joyfully, I sadly say goodbye to her; never again to see her on this earth.
Gee this sounds so melodramatic; yet, I think that all the ordinary people living ordinary lives have similar stories to share. Shortly after Gwen's death, our son, Mike, said to me, "Dad, death is very democratic." There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think of those words. I've also come to the realization that, in spite of the temptation to fixate on the ugly finality of death on that one Friday night, all those joyous Friday reunions are also part of Gwens' and my story, as are the countless joys we shared during all of our life together. Death ends; love lives on. Death cannot destroy the happiness seen in the pictures posted on this page.
Today was also a day of inspiration for me. One of my friends, Jeff, from a caregiver group that I attended for the duration of Gwen's illness, invited me and Ed to play golf with him and a friend. It was at a course we hadn't played before, so we quickly agreed to play. The weather was great, and I played better than I'd ever played before on a challenging course, but the real inspiration came from meeting and playing golf with Jeff's friend. He was a successful lawyer until a rare illness overtook his body and what began as a lung infection ultimately caused him lose his extremities. He has no fingers and wears prostheses on his legs, yet plays golf in the 90s. He has a superb sense of humor, we talked about the Tiger game last night and how nerve-wracking it was, and he said that he not only chewed off his fingernails, but also his fingers. Just a wonderful person to know.
It is always heartening for me to talk with not only relatives, but also friends who knew Gwen as she really was. Jeff was always a special, loving and caring person for Gwen and me. On cold winter nights, when we arrived for the meeting, he was always at the door, eager to help Gwen get into her wheelchair. After the meeting was over, he was also there to help Gwen get back into the car. Today he commented on the dogged determination with which Gwen attended those meetings with me. "The two of you were an inspiration to us all," he said. Now I feel blessed in being able to provide comfort and support for him as he helps his wife in her ongoing battle with cancer. I find that to be so comforting.
An interesting sidelight to today had to do with the fact that midway through the first nine holes Ed discovered that he had lost his new Droid Cell Phone. Understandably, he became distraught, and did not play the second nine holes. This evening he called to tell me that someone on had found his phone on the golf course and turned it in at the pro shop. Needless to say, he was tremendously relieved. Anyone who has ever looked for a lost golf ball can appreciate how low the probabilities are that someone would find a cell phone buried in the grass. A happy ending to a distressing events.
Tomorrow it will be nice to look forward to a Saturday without a football game at home. I won't know what it's like to just lie around the house and get caught up on chores.
Sunday is your birthday, Dear; it will be a day to celebrate, as is written on the candle holder that Mario and Flo sent us: "a life beautifully lived and a heart deeply loved." Today I was once again reminded of the lasting impact you've had on those who knew and loved you, and, along with that, of my intent to honor you with this blog. On this Friday night I celebrate and give thanks for the mystery of the gift of the love we shared. It lives on.
1 comment:
What a beautiful post John. "On this Friday night I celebrate and give thanks for the mystery of the gift of the love we shared." We have much to grieve but equally much to be thankful for, for they have taught us the meaning of Love.
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