It is time to step back. Time to take a careful look at where I’m going in the next few years. Time to figure out how to cherish every minute. Time, while there’s still time.
Three years ago, everything changed. There was before my husband turned 60 and then it was the year he turned 60. How can crossing the threshold from one decade into the next make such a difference?
I think all of us thought I’d be the one with health problems. My family heritage is not one of long years of living. My mother died when she had just turned 51, which was the exact age when her own mother died, both from breast cancer. My father died four years after my mother, and the doctors never knew exactly why. I have to surmise it was from a broken heart.
My husband had never had health problems. He has always been doggedly optimistic. He always believes in the best in those he loves. He is loyal. He is generally happy. Or, at least he was. Then, his health deteriorated suddenly, unexpectedly and inexplicably. That has tested him almost to the point of breaking. And, watching him struggle has tested me almost to the point of breaking.
The hardest part has been that not only his health, but almost everything in our lives has changed in just three short years. Our jobs, the place we call home, our pattern of living, our plans for the future – all changed in the past three years. Not all of the changes have been bad, but the unexpectedness of the changes and the rate of change has been unsettling, to say the least.
And the fear factor is overwhelming at times. I wasn’t prepared to imagine life without my husband – not yet. Well, of course, I probably was never prepared to live without him, but I guess I thought there would be a logical transition from our early years together to raising children to empty nesting to getting old together. But, he has outpaced me. I’ve watched him age so quickly in the past three years.
I’m trying to hang on to the idea of us still being vibrant and making plans for the future, but I think it is an illusion. I hope not, but I don’t want to lie to myself either, because I’ll miss cherishing each moment we have, I fear, if I pretend that nothing is wrong. I try to be strong for him, and then I’m afraid that I’m negating his own justifiable fears.
I think it is time for me to try to figure out this new world we’re in and find out what matters most to me now. Time with my husband matters a lot. Time with my daughter matters to me. Books matter to me. Trying to write matters to me. Two times in my past are my fondest memories and brought me the most joy, so maybe I can recreate them.
My most favorite work project was the restoration of The Florida Theatre. I felt I was part of something very important, very worth doing, and I loved the outcome of the work. I take personal pride that the theater is still in operation today. Maybe I could volunteer as an usher there.
And, I loved the five or so years I spent singing in the Jacksonville Symphony chorus. I felt as if I were part of something so much larger than just me, and yet I was an instrumental part of the whole. It was a way I could exercise a natural talent that I had without feeling the stress of performing solo. Maybe I should audition and see if I can perform again.
I thought I wanted to teach, and I have for three semesters since earning my master’s degree in English in August 2014. I do enjoy it, but the local universities don’t seem to want to keep me regularly employed, so I am frustrated. I can’t determine yet if this is a viable career path for me.
I realize it is the beginning of a new year, and I so feel compelled to figure some things out. Maybe it is a passing compulsion, but I think not. Taking control of things I can, when there is so much that I can’t control, seems important to do.
Karen J. Rieley 