Well, there isn’t much to say after having endured the last six turbulent months of my life. Since October 2024, my husband’s health deteriorated so fast, so hard, that even now I am reeling from the events. A storm, a hurricane, a tsunami . . . none even come close to describing his final months that culminated with him taking advantage of the medically assisted death program offered in the State of California.
I know I have neglected my blog; however, death throws a very large shadow, and sometimes it’s hard to get into the sunshine after losing a partner of 47 years. Our marriage wasn’t one of fairytales, but I loved him, and he loved me, and we weathered so much of life together. In the darkening months before his death, he tried to tell me, many, many things. Some I listened to very intently, others I dismissed as the ramblings of dementia. It was only a few weeks after his death that I understood many of those last-minute, desperate attempts of his to communicate to me. It was only afterwards that I understood what he tried to say to me.
He died December 28th, 2024. He chose his destiny, as his twisted body filled him with such pain and his mind failed him, he finally found rest from this world with his last breath. I held him, whispered to him while he died, and witnessed the end of our partnership together. Not our love, mind you, just our time together here on earth. While he lay in my arms dying, I told him, “You go now. You go to where you are supposed to go. You don’t cause any trouble and listen to them. I’ll be along shortly”.
It seems surreal that he is no longer here, and that I must go on without him. But go on, I do. One step at a time, one pencil line drawn after another. After he died, I sketched out S. S. Starry Night. I was driving through the mountains a few days after he passed, and several things he had said were rumbling through my thick skull, and then on the radio, “Vincent” by Don McLean came on. Boy, did I cry. Not only did I cry, but I also saw my Skelly floating in a starry night, with love and daffodils in hand, amidst the turbulent starry skies above. I came home and sketched what I saw in my mind’s eye, and I cried while doing so.
I am, by nature, an optimistic person. A happy-go-lucky, any-way-the-wind-blows type of person who’s amicable and good-natured. His parting left a profound blow to my happiness, but I find solace in giving kindness and laughter. I see steps to happiness one at a time, primarily by sharing Adrift Again and experiencing how giving simple, small, joyful things can brighten someone else’s day. And that is precisely what I am doing; that is my therapy, my cornerstone.
For now, the S. S. Starry Night is my favorite. I find peace in the starry sky and peace in the unfolding understanding of the storm that I have weathered. The chorus of “Vincent” may make me cry, but it also helps me find peace. If you find yourself reading this and are adrift, my hope for you is that you find peace.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now
- "Vincent” by Don McLean
Take care,
Doreen