Feb 14, 2021

Birth, Death, Joy, Grief (51) 

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future 

To a known God” 

• Corrie ten Bloom

My wife of almost 59 years (59 years on June 10, 2020) and best friend Eileen had been diagnosed with terminal cancer of the esophagus, in February 2019. Eileen died on February 22, 2020, the day following the birth of our latest granddaughter, Maria; 60 years to the day after we met; the funeral was March 4, 2020, and the burial was July 3, 2020. Then my brother Tom began having serious health problems, and I spent two three-week sessions with him this summer. But Tom passed in October 2020; and my sister-in-law Sue passed from COVID-19 in late January 2021. Combined with the COVID pandemic this has created a very challenging year. This blog gives my thoughts, fears, prayers, and hopes during this challenging and difficult time looking at the spaces in my life.  

Before I start my journal entry, I want to ask you to help any friend or neighbor, usually elderly, who is eligible for the COVID vaccine but has been frustrated trying to register for the vaccine, to help them. The entry in New York is: https://am-i-eligible.covid19vaccine.health.ny.gov/. Anyone can register another person, as it only requires the name, date of birth and address of the person seeking the vaccine. Other states may differ. 

 

02/14/2021.                  I hope everyone is enveloped by love this Valentine day. I know I am.

I have been pondering the past year, at what God has placed in my life and how I have grown from this life-altering turn. In many ways, the pandemic has been a help to me during this time, as my daughter Barbara could stay here until October so that I was not alone during this time. Then too, the illness of my brother allowed me to spend time with him, which we had not done at any time since we had left our parents’ home. These events pulled me out of wallowing in my loneliness, until I was able to survive without too much damage.  

I find myself reliving the events of a year ago as we approach the one-year anniversary of Eileen’s death. I just learned today (Wednesday) that one of my good friends passed Sunday. I have been seeing his wife, a close friend of Eileen’s and a close friend of mine, often at church, and even though Dick has been fighting lymphoma cancer for several years, he seemed to be holding his own. I can empathize with his wife and family at this time. I spoke with his wife and she said that he died during his morning nap, gently and quietly, just closed his eyes and didn’t wake up. I do not believe I will attend the services due to Covid. It makes me feel bad about staying home, but my age restricts much of what I do, and even though I will have just had my first vaccine shot, it is too soon to stretch anything. 

One year ago we were 9 days away from Eileen’s death, and most of our effort was spent keeping her comfortable. This included morphine every hour around the clock, turning her a bit, wetting her mouth every few hours, and spending her awake time talking. Mostly I just held her hands and sat there. I am reliving each day from last year, but I have been told that is common in situations like mine. 

Most of all, I feel I am coming out of the turbulence that was in my mind, so that I am starting to think clearly once again. It has taken a year to reach this point, and I can understand the wisdom of the advice to wait a year before making any major decisions. It seems to me that it is a clear step; one day I am restless and going from one thing to the next nonstop, then the next day things are calm, and I can make decisions easily. For instance, while I never drank to excess, I found that I needed something to ease me to sleep every night for the past two years. Then about 6 weeks ago, I no longer needed anything. Now I have a glass or two of cider rather than my two Manhattan’s that I had been having, and only on an occasion do I have something stronger. 

Saturday I had my first Covid vaccine (Pfizer, yay) shot, and I go back in three weeks for my second. Then in another couple of weeks I will be much safer from contracting the virus. It is amazing that this new approach to preventing a disease came at this time. It had been studied for only a few years, but the progress in working with the methodologies just now reached the point that they could dare attempt to use it and risk the outcome. It was a gamble the Pfizer took on their own nickel, as they started the process of manufacturing long before they had results and were ready to deliver as soon as the permission of all concerned came through. They certainly did not expect the 96% success rate they achieved, and all are elated at that. Now there is exciting buzz about what else could be attacked with this new approach. 

I am looking at my life right now, and while I could name many things I miss with Eileen gone such as holding hands with Eileen being the most dominant plus the daily touching and kissing morning and night, I realize that what I miss most is — Eileen. Just her presence, the aura that she filled this house with, and the joy that she lived life to the max. I am dealing well with the loneliness, and my days are full, I have learned to cook so that I eat balanced meals, the house is reasonably clean and neat, but I miss the laughter and joy we shared, as well as the shared prayer time. I miss the chatting, having someone to grouse to, or to share a story with. Yes, life is good, and I have been blessed in many ways with a loving family, but I find I do not laugh as often, and meals are good but quiet. I am in good health, even able to put together detailed models and to paint since my hands are steady, I can once again listen to and read science, history, and books on the racial turmoil in our country and keep their thoughts in my mind to ponder, as well as the lighter stuff I enjoy late at night. Right now I am listening to the book series I have read many times over the years. Lots of exciting ventures by well-developed personalities, and a little magic. Ok, a lot of magic. These books by David Eddings were written in the 1980s-90s. Much to my amazement Audible voiced them. One series consists of 10 books, the second 6 longer books. Finished the first series and just starting the second. 

One of the books that helped was by a minister who was dying with the same cancer (esophageal) as what took Eileen. Another book I have started in on is the best poems of 2020, and another is on Martin Luther King and the impact of his “I have a dream” speech. Plus a couple of religious or spiritual books. Then, of course there is science. Right now a book looking at cosmology from a more spiritual angle, at the really narrow possibility that the universe would be JUST right to last 14 billion years and develop life, and conscious life. (Like what? Just that if the expansion rate of the universe had been any different, by less than a trillionth of one percent, the universe would have collapsed or exploded into nothingness, one way or the other before now. And there are more than 200 facts like that.) 

Meditation  

Gentle One, I am awed as I watch this process of grief unfold in my life. You lead me gently, never chastise me, just move me a bit at a time. Almost one year has passed. My friend Lana is just starting on her journey, and the pain is fresh and intense for her and their family. Different but the same, and right now she is reeling with the initial impact that occurred without warning. You will guide her gently, as You have guided me, and maybe as a friend with a similar experience I can occasionally help her.