I WALK A LOT THESE DAYS…
I walk a lot these days. There are jewels of lakes on Orcas Island with trails that encircle. There are 4–6 mile loops through woods, farm land, beach and town.
Walking soothes me, unfurls me, allows me to breathe more deeply. I am nourished by visual delights. An astounding array of mushrooms, of mosses, of ferns. Waterfowl delightfully disappearing, adorable heads so black and white in the silver light.
Small glimpses of others lives lived so close by yet so differently. Sand, rock and shell entwined with seaweed crusty with salt. The water grey, cold and not at all inviting.
I walk to reclaim me. To just be a woman walking. Not caretaking, cooking, cleaning, calling, clinging… This grieving is hard work. Inside out it turns me one minute; far seeing beyond the blue sky the next.
It does appear that we die as we have lived. John’s dying is quiet, patient, mulling, mostly gentle, and kind.
One day may seem like it is heralding the end. The next can leave me feeling confused, did I dream that he was dying? So alive and clear, lights back on, a twinkle in his eyes. Looking back, I can see that each day seems to reveal an ever so slight declining.
Well meaning friends and family remind me to enjoy each moment. Of course I want to do that. Lean into the not knowing, what an amazing opportunity to be in the moment. Yes, this too!
But sometimes I wonder how much longer I can go on. Focused on the minutiae of another’s well being and comfort. No knowing when he will be released; when I will be released. If you have done this for a loved one, you”ll understand.
The journey of prostate cancer has consumed almost half our ten years of knowing each other. Because John and I have been -in each other’s pockets- as they say in Australia-we figure we’ve spent the equivalent of 3 years of ‘couple time’ each year, putting us at just about 30 years of togetherness!
I feel very still when I wonder what is next. Not concerned, or scared. It just feels like enough for now, to be still, listening to the wind and rain and watching the flickering flames in the stove. So utterly grateful to have known, loved and been loved by this truly beautiful human being.
