There are moments that the seriousness and the certainty and the finality of our situation slam into my consciousness and I weep. The weeping only lasts for a moment, but I wonder what will happen after Marv’s gone. Will I weep oceans? He continually reminds me I’ll do fine. Well, big deal. What does he know? But, I must admit his confidence in me is comforting.
This past week, he finally taught me how to change the furnace filter—it had been on our bucket list, and I learned about the water softener. It’s there, it has a lid, and I’m supposed to scoop stuff from a fifty-pound bag into it every now and then. I don’t remember.
I don’t want to dwell on the things I must know to be a widow. I said so to a few widow friends. They laughed and said, “We can teach you those things, Lois. Don’t sweat the small stuff.”
Comforting, for sure, but they don’t realize that at my stage, these household maintenance things are a big deal. It almost makes me want to move into an apartment with a round-the-clock maintenance staff. And just when I voice my fears about the house falling apart, a neighbor offers up her husband, “He’ll help you with everything, Lois. Just call. He loves to help.”
I’m reading Joan Chittister’s The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully for a new book club we’ve started at church. All of us are loving the book. We’re taking a third at a time and never finish because each person can relate to so many of the truisms she says about aging. Last night I was reading the chapter titled “Future.” A weird topic right now since my future is uncertain. But right off the opening sentence cheered me up. Chittister quoted Louis Kronenberger, “Old age is an excellent time for outrage. My goal is to say or do one outrageous thing a week” (p. 139).
“There you have it,” as my older sister likes to say. Chittister reminds us that the future is just a state of mind. We can either go negative with it, or positive. But you sure get the feeling from her that life is now, and we should spend our time well, even dangerously. “Dangerously fun loving, dangerously honest. Dangerously involved. Dangerously alive (p. 161).
So, I will tell Marv tonight that we must do something outrageous, even dangerous!
But he’s already washed the cars and planted more flowers and worked on bedside tables he’s making for our grandson. And he has yet to make me dinner. He may say that’s all outrageous and dangerous enough for today.
And I will have to agree. Outrageously and dangerously thoughtful and loving for that little-girl part of me that’s a teeny bit afraid of becoming a widow.
Write Along with Me 
Good stuff. Sr. Joan is on my hero list, and your re-mentioning of this book has moved it up on my list! Thanks, and glad that you and Marv are continuing your outrageous living. Many would consider doing this his way outrageous, I find it reassuringly sane.
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Thanks! Some days I wonder how sane we are!
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Which also strikes me as normal.
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Yes. With this roller coaster time in our lives.
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Oh my dear, you are same and when the inevitable happens, as it will, you’ll find you can cope with all those seemingly ”undoable” tasks that appear so huge right now. Love and hugs from the far side of the world.
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Thanks, Judith. Reminds me to live one day at a time.
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Maybe this will sound a little self-centered, but what I will be wanting is your posts telling us all the walls you run into and how you dug under, climbed over, tore down, or just took another path around it. But I hear your fear. I am fiercely independent and an introvert but I really don’t know how I would be able to live without my best friend and lover who is always just there – except when I have just put supper on the table. Then I have no idea where he is. I am fighting back tears just thinking about how much I will miss this game of hide and seek that I get so snarky about now.
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Hang in with me. I’ll be sure to write about those walls. My one remaining sister (of three) and sister-in-law (both widows) tell me often about what they’ve had to handle since being alone. I’ll have good tutors. Marv says to tell you that he never has a problem finding me for dinner—I’m always on my couch! Love that you’re snarky sometimes!
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Thank you for sharing your story. My husband died many years ago of the “big C” as I called it when talking to my friends and co-workers. Being an RN almost made it worse. Knowing the progression sometimes squashed the hope and resolve to make the best of the precious time left. Your positive attitude and resolve to enjoy your time with your husband now is creating memories you will always hold close to your heart.
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Thanks, Sarah, for your encouragement. It’s good to hear from someone who has been where I am (and survived). You are right–being a nurse can make it worse. I try to stay “wife” and leave my stethoscope in a drawer. But it’s hard not to want to listen. And palpate, etc. And play dumb with the hospice nurse, which isn’t hard because I’ve been out of nursing 18 years already, but some knowledge still stays stuck in my mind!
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Lois, it sounds like Marv has spoiled you! Many of us have had to change furnace filters and add water softening salts before – and even after – we got married. You may not want to, but you’re totally capable of all the tasks you’ve mentioned in your posts. Who has more nerves of steel than a nurse?!
What I hear more in your essay is the wondering about how painful it’s going to be when Marv is gone. I so often take for granted my husband’s presence, I sometimes stop and wonder what it will be like if he dies before me. I lived on my own until I married Ed at age 42. Now that I’ve been married, single life will surely feel different.
You and Marv are living witness to God’s steadfastness.
Thank you.
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I am spoiled. An elderly neighbor when we were younger used to call me “Queen” when I sat with him on our deck while Marv prepared dinner. I do wonder what it will be like to live alone I went right from the nurses dorm to marriage. I’ve never lived alone. I shall have to treat it as a new “adventure.” There’s no way I could even contemplate this without faith. Thank you!
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Still in our prayers! Know that God’s grace is there when you need it ! We can attest to that.
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Thanks for your faithfulness in caring and praying for us. It is faith that carries us moment to moment. We are grateful.
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Thinking of you and Marv, Lois.
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Thanks! Every little bit of encouragement helps.
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