Couldn't be better timing for me. Every year, this week and next are difficult for me. November 2nd's the fourth anniversary of Nancy's passing. You'd think I could grow-UP and deal with her death and absence better as time passes. Seems to get harder, though.
Simple truth: I really need to get off my butt and find a woman to love. I would, if I could figure out how to do it. What puzzles and daunts me is how to start looking? And where to look. I wasn't really looking for Nancy when I found her. She just miraculously emerged in my office. I turned around and saw her standing there. That was it. I deserve some credit. I never stopped paying attention.
Now I always feel outa step with my life.
It's my own fault. . .at least partly. I mean: my life DOES get better in some ways. Lotsa reasons: Tara&Jon and sometimes Taylor and Konnor fill the house with a sort of loving racket. Also, while it's not that Tara and Jon take care of me exactly. . . I know that they care about me. Include me best they can. I'm sincerely happy for their loving. . .the ways they take care of each other. . .the ways they include me best they can, though I try to stay out from under their feet.
Even though no mature adult would wish to horn in on this exciting time of their early loving, I can't help feeling lifted by watching the experience they're now having. Their love kinda splashes over onto me at times. I mean it's their love. But I can feel it, be glad for it, experience it close-up, be happy for them. Could be true that vicarious loving is better than none.
Plus it makes me remember. Good as that may be, remembering cuts both ways, no matter how hard I try to stop wishing things were different than they have to be. Still, nearly forty years of being loved by someone as wonderful as Nancy -- and loving her in return -- sounds like it should be enough for any man.
But it's NOT! Never will be. Simplest way to express it is I feel as if my life's been stolen!
Does some good to realize that all around me are people who've also had their happiness stolen. Most widows and widowers are within my own age range. Somehow they find each other -- or somebody else -- and couple up. Or not. Some bury themselves in their work. Other's seem to find other healthy ways to go on. I wonder about those I see who appear to deal with the loss so much better than I do. Many find other loves. Almost casually, they go ahead with their lives.
By contrast, on some level I'm always struggling. . .sometimes it's difficult. Sometimes I'm able to shake off the pain and sense of emptiness and loss. . .at least for a little while in the passage of each day. I'm determined to start doing better.
Helps to watch the Gutsy ones. I admire them. I have to wonder what-all's beneath their gallant exteriors. No good telling myself my loss has been greater. All loss is potentially devastating. Perhaps it's true: no living through it. Loss just goes on. Gotta somehow learn to live UP to it. Meet it head-on, face it down. Somehow compensate for it.
I know that! 'Swhy I'm determined to start volunteering immediately. . .knee surgery or not. Could be, I'll just limp around helping do stuff at the hospital right after my surgery. Last time I was able to stand up and move about stiff-legged the moment I woke up after the surgery. Gonna try to do the same this time. Prob'ly drive the nurses crazy. But I'm determined not to let this knee surgery slow me down.
Tara works in the hospital. Until I can safely drive, I'll ride in with her. Gotta be something useful I can do. I'm well-educated and broadly experienced. Gonna find something to do and get with it!
All that aside: what I want mostly to do in this brief posting is share some good news. I feel somewhat guilty, because the GOOD news comes at the expense of considerable BAD news for someone else I care about lots -- Mat.
The SUPER-good news? Marisa and Mat're coming home from Romania for about two weeks. Probably arrive here November 2nd. . .what would otherwise be a difficult day for me.
The BAD news. They're coming home because Mat's mother's companion has died. Mr. Keen has been very ill for a long time. His death introduces a sort of mixed turmoil. Nancy's death taught me the torment of such mixed turmoil. His release from suffering is good. What is left for those he loved, who loved him, is a forlorn emptiness that nags. It's not that I knew him. I didn't at all. Furthermore, I know Mat's mom only casually. Still: her loss reminds me of my own.
Mostly: I adore Mat. To the degree he worries about his mom, I worry about him.
One good thing: this coming Tuesday I'll be busy for sure. I'll be undergoing a heart catherization with the likelihood of at least some angioplasty in the process. As the procedure unfolds, the doctor'll fix whatever he finds needs fixing.
One really interesting aspect of the surgery is that instead of going in through my groin, this doctor employs a technique whereby he'll enter through my wrist. Indications are that this new technique lessens the likelihood of blood clots. So I'm told there won't be so much need for slow recovery with the wrist entry. I like that.
I like it especially because the following week I'm scheduled for knee replacement surgery. As I've probably mentioned before in some recent posting, I anticipate an accelerated period of therapy, too. But one of the neatest things is that Marisa&Mat'll still be here to spoil me with sympathy. . .which I'll no doubt milk for all it's worth. . .with both hands.
My new doctor's at least partly to blame for all this surgery. She's a do-it-get-through-it person. We both agree on that. I'm thinkin' all kindsa crazy-good-stuff like: Maybe I should get new skis and a flashy new outfit and get back to the ski slopes this winter. After-all, I'm in seriously GOOD shape for an old guy. New knee. New craziness. Furthermore, I wonder: if I find a woman on the ski-slopes, she's bound to be adventurous. . .no matter how old. Hmmmmnnn!?
I know I need to start looking. . .or at least start looking forward.
Well. . .bottom-line, I'm eagerly looking forward to Mat&Marisa getting home. The house'll be jumpin'! Good thing I'll have my heart back in shape!
Strange!? Since when has heart surgery seemed so much like a celebration? Feels good!
Gonna be a really good week!
Just wait and see!
Just wait and see!
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