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The Perfect Timing

  “Life teaches you that you need to make decisions in the right time – not too early, not too late.” Jeb Bush

 And It Began

Through the years, I have heard that “timing is everything.” And at the age of thirty-eight, I finally figured out what I wanted in my personal life. But more important was who I would share it with. So when my loved one asked me to marry him, I said yes.

I was excited about the possibility of a different life filled with love, companionship, and support. Share on X

Growing up in the sixties, being a single mom, I became an assertive, independent woman. However, this did not prepare me for being married. I was apprehensive about what being married meant. It seems that we did not have a clue about what the day-to-day expectations and responsibilities were, so after the wedding, we found ourselves “winging” it.

So merging our families, we each gravitated to roles that fit our personalities. However, the tasks and our roles needed to be adjusted as time passed. After floundering for a little while, we assessed our strengths. We came up with a division of tasks/labor that worked for us. We took a deeper look and now considered that I worked in insurance, was good with numbers, and was analytical. At the same time, he was a graphic designer and an artist with excellent artistic sensibilities.

Finding the Strengths

Due to his illness and inability to work, the timing was right to start following my career. We each made sacrifices as my career necessitated cross-country moves and frequent travel. Not having a traditional marriage, we embraced our strengths. My strengths included good analytical skills, the ability to make decisions quickly, and lastly, I was good with our finances. Well, I was better than the artist was.

Through the years, our primary roles stayed the same. But as his illness progressed, we had to modify our day-to-day tasks. His limitations prevented him from doing many of them, so my responsibilities increased.

 

However, after his death, I struggled to find my way with my newfound reality. My expectation was that I could handle everything and anything that came up, knowing it could be done under normal circumstances. But the truth was this was not my everyday life. The grief I was living through kept me overwhelmed, tired, angry, forgetful, and, worse of all, indecisive. I couldn’t concentrate long enough to analyze the pros and cons of any situation.

Is it Time for a Change?

So three months after my loved one passed, one of my elderly aunts called. She asked me if I would continue to stay in my home. This train of thought hadn’t even entered my mind. I was too overwhelmed with my everyday life to consider such a change. But as she spoke, she stated that they had discussed my situation. They feared I was too far from my neighbors and the grocery stores. That the weather was awful in the winter and that the house required too much upkeep for a woman who was all alone.

As I asked a couple of questions and it became clear that the “they” were three of my favorite aunts (all widows). They concluded that I shouldn’t live in my home due to its location and no familial support. At that point, the conversation veered to how much she loved me and only thought of my well-being.

After the conversation, I realized that moving, as an option, had not even been a consideration. I was painfully aware that I couldn’t even decide on the small things before me.

The thought of moving was too complicated to consider. Share on X

 

But what this conversation did was show me the reality of my situation. I did live in the country, in New England. There was occasional terrible weather, and I was far from a grocery store or any store for that matter. I  was alone. But this was not my whole truth.

Twelve Years of Memories

I began thinking about what initially drew me to the house and what kept me there. The house was in the country on three and a half beautiful wooded acres that were magnificent year-round, especially in the fall. On top of the beauty, I was surrounded by the wildlife that crossed my property and gave me a deep sense of peace.

 

This lovely house was filled with twelve years of memories. Share on X

 

These twelve years of memories were the ones that I shared with my love. Even though I physically lived alone, I knew I was not alone. My friends provided all the support that I seemed to need. At the time, I was still young and strong enough to take care of the upkeep, and this WAS my truth.

I knew that moving was not a decision I would make any time soon because of my day-to-day struggles. I needed to wait for more healing and listen to that inner voice telling me it was OK to do so. After my loved one’s death, I promised myself I wouldn’t make any life-altering decisions for a year. This would include potentially selling my home or moving to another state. My life experiences have taught me that as time passes, more will be revealed. Whatever decisions must be made, I will make them as I’m ready.

My Future

So on that long ago day, three months after my loved one died, I sat and focused on what was in front of me:

  • A home I loved.
  • A place where I felt safe.
  • The peaceful woods surrounding my lovely home.

However, I knew there would be another conversation at another time. When that time happened, I would be willing to look at possible options for moving to another place and home. And when I did consider a change, the moment would be right, and the timing would be perfect.

 

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Grief and the Anniversary Party

“Whatever life we have experienced, if we can tell our story to someone who listens, we find it easier to deal with our circumstances.” Margaret J. Wheatley

 

Shortly after my loved one passed, one of my closest friends was to celebrate her thirtieth recovery anniversary. Before my husband’s death, I had been looking forward to seeing her celebrate this milestone surrounded by her family and friends, but now I was struggling.  

 

As the day approached, part of me looked forward to catching up with friends. However, as the thoughts entered my head as to why I would be there without my loved one, my grief seemed to intensify, and I went from feeling heartbreak to inconsolable sadness. 

I went from feeling heartbreak to inconsolable sadness. Share on X

 

 Making the Journey

Since his death, I retreated to my home and isolated myself from others. I knew I needed to get out of myself, so I considered making the journey. For the last several years, I had been so wrapped up in myself that I genuinely wanted to be there for her. She had spent countless hours talking to and supporting me through my loved one’s long illness, hospital stays, and eventual death.  

 So, I made plans to stay with some friends, bought an airline ticket, rented a car, and was ready to be a part of this beautiful anniversary. I was anxious on the day of my flight and couldn’t wait to get there as I knew a special hug was awaiting me. 

 

This party was the first get-together since my loved one passed, and I felt that attending the event would help me feel connected again.

 

I can’t say that I had been looking forward to the party, but as my special friend could not be at his funeral, I yearned to feel the love and acceptance that only a close friend can provide. 

 I arrived in Orlando at 5:00 p.m., picked up my luggage, and rushed to get the rental car. The goal was to beat the rush hour traffic, so I could promptly get to the pre-anniversary event. It had been arranged that several people that knew her well would share, and I wanted to hear what they had to say. 

 A Shoulder to Cry On

When I arrived, I searched for her, and as I entered the room, I saw her looking at me. She had saved a seat next to her, and I instantly started to cry.

We hugged, and she said a few words of comfort. I laid my head on her shoulder as the tears swept over me. The intimacy of this moment and our relationship was apparent to anyone watching.

 I had been friends with this woman for twenty-five years. The long-term relationship fostered trust, honesty, and plenty of love. Through the years, I had shared my pain, joy, loneliness, and deepest secrets with her, so it only made sense that being around her, I felt an intense bond that I hadn’t felt since before my loved one’s death.  

 It had been forty-five days since my loved one passed, and I started to feel better because I was surrounded by many long-time friends whom I consider family. During the evening, I was able to spend a little time with my close friend, but our quality time would come during the following few days.  

 The Waves Were Calling Me to Sleep

As the evening ended, I found myself experiencing some reprieve from my grief. We made our way to the hotel, and I finished my day listening to the waves of the Atlantic Ocean, finding a little peace as I dozed off to sleep.

The following morning we got up early, took a walk, and had a lovely breakfast, killing time waiting for the celebration to begin. I tried to focus on why I had come all this way but couldn’t sustain the thoughts of celebration for very long. My grief drowned the symphony that the ocean waves provided, and thank goodness that before I knew it, it was time to go to the event. 

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And Now Time for the Party

As I walked into the venue, I saw many old friends. These friends were attentive and allowed me to share a little of my grief. A few of them joined me in shedding some tears. 

With others, I could see them grapple with what to say to a new widow and truly appreciated their attempts knowing that nothing would change how I felt.

 

The festivities began with serving food, allowing people to eat, mingle and share stories. That was preceded by a video of photographs depicting moments in her life with many people who had gathered in the banquet room. Afterward, people began giving toasts and sharing how much it meant to them to be there for her thirtieth recovery anniversary.  

I sat with friends and listened to the testimonials knowing how blessed I was to have someone so caring and loving in my life. I felt terrible for not sharing a lovely story. But I was overwhelmed with my grief and afraid I would ruin this occasion, so I didn’t say a word.

 

Knowing I was overwhelmed with my loss, the celebrant hugged me and whispered a few words.

 

I don’t remember the specifics, but she managed to make time during her party, which allowed me to feel a deeper connection to her on her special day.  

 As my trip ended, I was immensely grateful to have made this journey which allowed me to be a part of the celebration and to share my tears, hugs, grief, and love for my special friend.

 

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Run Rosina Run

“Although you may get exhausted sometimes, you can still get over it if you have people around you who give you warm words.” Nayeon

One of my favorite movies from the 90s was Run Lola Run. It is about a woman who had to obtain 100,000 Deutschmarks in twenty minutes to save her boyfriend’s life. I remember the movie’s endless images of Lola’s flame-red hair blowing in the wind as she ran from one scene to the other. 

So today, as I sit and write about the last three weeks of my loved one’s life, the images of Lola running become clearer. During these three weeks, I lost twenty-two pounds, not because of a special diet. It was a direct result of all the running that I was doing. Not quite like Lola, but running just the same. 

Run, Run, Run

From the moment I opened my eyes, I would be running. I could hear it in my head Run Rosina Run. I would run to feed our cat, change the litter, get dressed, jump in the car, and speed to the hospital, making all attempts to miss the early morning traffic. Upon entering the hospital, I would stop in the lobby, purchase a bagel and drink, and immediately take a bite while getting into the elevator. I knew that if I didn’t do it then I wouldn’t know when I would have an opportunity for another bite. 

After his surgery, every organ began to fail. Share on X

After his surgery, every organ began to fail. But the problem was that his kidneys were the first ones to go. Due to this, he was only allowed ice chips which I saw as cruel and unusual punishment. So before entering his intensive care room, I would put away all signs of food and drink.

Run Rosina Run. I would run in and out of his hospital room when the doctors or nurses performed procedures. I remember feeling guilty about this because somehow, I thought I should stay and support him while they did some uncomfortable and inhuman thing to him. But these procedures would give me a few minutes of reprieve from the horror of each day. I would take the elevator to the lobby, have a bite of my bagel, walk outside the hospital to smoke a cigarette, call a friend, and sob over the inevitable not-so-happy ending to our love story. 

One More Thing, One More Thing, And…

These escapes would last around 15 minutes, and then Run Rosina Run would enter my thoughts. Trying to be compassionate and not wanting to add to his discomfort, I made a point not to speak of food, the smell of food, and only drink when I was out of the room.

Even with all the running most days, I would return home after 10 p.m. to discover that I still had a partially eaten bagel and unfinished bottled diet coke at the bottom of my purse. Now I had to deal with the rest of my obligations – take a shower, wash clothes, pay a bill, return phone calls, check emails, play with his cat, unwind with music or TV and finally put myself to bed to do it all again and again.

So why was I running? Why had Run Lola Run infected my life? Share on X

So why was I running? Why had Run Lola Run infected my life? What was the purpose of my running? In the movie, Lola was running to obtain money to save the love of her life. However, it didn’t matter how much money I had in my life, as none of it would save my loved one’s life. My Ron would not make it no matter how fast I ran. Run Rosina Run. There was no saving him. Run Rosina Run.

The Answer is Obvious

As I think back, I question why I was running, but the answer is obvious. I was running because the clock was ticking away. There wasn’t much time left for us to be together. Not much time to share the things that were important to us. Little time to hold each other’s hands.

 

Did he know how much I loved him? Did he know how important he was to my life? To our children’s lives? Did he hear what I was telling him? When he decided to stop all treatment, did he hear my words, letting him know that I would support him and that we would be alright? 

The day my Ron died; the running stopped. Share on X

The day my Ron died; the running stopped. The weeks, months, and years of illness left emotional devastation that would take me some time to recover. Run Rosina Run hit a brick wall, and there would be no running for quite a while.

In the movie, Lola saved her loved one, but in my circumstances, only one person remained to be saved. So, at his death, I allowed others to step in, be of service and save me. I had been running for so long that just stopping felt unnatural, but the exhaustion eventually won out, and I lay down and slept. As time passed, with some support, love, and therapy, I finally started to feel better. Run Rosina Run didn’t have to run anymore.