It's been over a week since I've posted here, and even more time since I have managed to reply to comments. I have been a hit-and-run reader of email, and all of your comments have greatly cheered me, even though I may have been too overwhelmed to respond.
In fact, I have been mostly out of touch with the world at large since before Thanksgiving, caught up as I was in a frenzy of doing. Then, with family here, and the house full, I was caught up in a different kind of frenzy, one I had sorely missed. Their presence filled my heart and helped me catch up on a bit of sleep too, allowed me precious time to catch up with myself and make a little peace with my place in the world.
But now the family is gone and most of the biggest items on the "getting" list are in order. Now I am left with the sorting and moving and reconfiguring of our lives. In some ways this is the hardest part. G must move to the smaller room on the other end of the house and his things must move with him. This will require some sort of elimination and it feels strange to be sorting through his things and thereby the artifacts of his life while he is only a few miles waiting to come home. Even though I know he will not be able to come up the few steps to get to this room; even though I now realize that his closet had become a source of great stress for him; even as I realize that he is content with the simplicity of few choices and easy decisions; even as I think of all these things,I feel the responsibility of sorting through the remnants of a life lived and saved and the weight of making the right decisions.
And of course, sorting through G's things are only one part. My small library will become a small bedroom for a live-in caregiver. I had help moving the books this past weekend and they are now piled up, almost one thousand strong, on the living room floor where they will sit, one step up from the main level of the house, while new floors go in and G returns home. I am not yet sure of their fate. Shelves will go back up in other rooms, but that will have to wait for the new year, after all the floors have been installed, but sacrifices will have to be made.
G struggles with the loss of his view of himself as a man in control of life, a man who goes to work, a man who fixes people, a man who hopes to travel. His life now encompasses a smaller sphere, but still a sphere where there is time spent with loved ones.
I too struggle with changing images of self and yet to some extent the loss of books seems minor in comparison. But books too are defining. I have always seen myself as a person who has a library, who loves books, who collects books that I have read, that mean something to me and who also collects books I have not read, books full of the promise of worlds unexplored, of knowledge not yet gained. But books are not everything; I am just not yet sure of the balance point.
The decisions seem overwhelming at times and at other times simple. Perhaps being a person who over-thinks everything is not always an advantage. The days are short, the nights are long, the decisions are hard. And yet the destination is clear, it is just the path that remains somewhat hidden in fog.
Comments
14 responses to “Sorting through it all”
Again Mardel, I am moved by the grace with which you are approaching this altered state of living.
And, my friend, I totally empathize w the books as a defining source of person. I moved my ever expanding library 5 times. However in this last move I was forced to divest myself of nearly a thousand books. It hurt.
Hugs, Marjorie
M: I’m glad for you that you have had some family time. Is it possible to undertake this next task (emotionally difficult as it is) with the support of a good friend? If you could drink some wine and cry a little and talk about great memories – while working of course, it might make a hard task a little easier.
When I read these recent posts, my heart goes out to you. Be sure to take care of yourself.
Another thing that occurs to me: It must be so difficult not to conflate the extreme transition in a dear loved-one’s life with one’s own. What I mean is, of course G’s loss of mobility and freedom strongly impact you – practically, emotionally, spiritually – but I wonder if you can remember, as you go through it all, that you are not the one in his place. You cannot fix his circumstance, though your love and care will make it a much better one. I just hope for you, even as you struggle with the loss of a life you have known and loved, that you know your life will have much more richness.
Dear Mardel, I think of you often, as I envision you working tirelessly to create a soft, safe place for G. Your love and care for him is unparalleled.
Mardel: I can only guess your feelings at a time like this. G is so lucky to have the possibility to return back home. While you have all these changes being made at home, there is at least something happening. Please take care of yourself, go out, whatever.., so that there will be something for you too.
Mardel, My heart goes out to you. I know how hard this is, and you are truly an example of how to live when life is not going as we wish. You are an inspiration, and G is so lucky to have you.
The path may be, indeed has to be, traveled slowly. may you feel the warmth of your friends and family’s love as you traverse each step.
hugs. looking forward to seeing you Thursday. You’ve been on my mind all week.
thought of you throughout the week. just know you have many friends that are their for you……. if you need help, just let me know. till Thursday my friend…
Dear, sweet Mardel, my heart goes out to you.
Oh Mardel…How difficult all of this is. You and G are in my thoughts. I wish we could meet for lunch at Babycakes and chat and knit.
I am so happy to see you here. You and G have been much in my thoughts. I am so sorry you have all that stuff to trudge through, you have enough on your plate without having to deal with that. If you ever want a friendly ear I am just a phone call away. Big hugs to you, my friend.xoxo
My husband is still good, but I’ve had to deal with this loss with my son. At 17 his, and our, lives changed in an instant. That loss is still there and always will be. We’ve all had to change our goals and hopes and plans. This kind of change is never easy, always hard. I admire the grace you show in dealing with this. I think of you often and hope for brighter days in the new year.