I’ve been in transition since Adrian died two and a half years ago. Before that my life was suspended precariously in a constant state of tension, angst, turmoil and stress as we dealt with his worsening Alzheimer’s and other physical ailments.
My first reaction when he died was shock coupled with relief. There was a way out of the pain after all. That was the relief. The shock was that it had actually happened—I would never see him alive again.
After having spent those last years simply trying to survive in my caregiving role—not one that comes easily to me—my life now feels wide open with possibility. What am I going to do with it?
Previous transitions in my life have always been dramatic. I’d quit a job, move 3000 miles away, leave a relationship, start a business, declare bankruptcy, begin a new career—anything to jolt me out of the current bog of depression I’d fallen into.
I’ve matured since then, learned a few things about myself, and I’m better at hanging in there now. I can put my toe in the water without jumping off the diving board before I’ve tested the temperature.
Testing and making small changes is what I’ve been doing over the last couple of years. I tried Zumba and singing lessons and nixed them both. I started piano lessons and still practice every day.
I left the room that was Adrian’s office in the house pretty much untouched until about a year after he died. Now it is my office. I covered the walls with family photos and portraits I’d painted over the years. I can look out the window now to see the thriving willow trees he planted in the front yard.
One of my friends always says, “One does what one wants to do.” She loves gardening and walking in the woods, so that’s what she does at every available opportunity.
I feel I am mostly doing what I want to do: I paint. I write. I take walks with friends and visit with family. For spiritual practice, I read and meditate each morning.
But I feel a nagging itch to find a new direction. Maybe it’s just my old coping mechanism singing a seduction song.
Maybe it’s an invitation.
Me and Adrian in the woods, probably somewhere in Pennsylvania, maybe 6 or 7 years ago--a son taking our snapshot.
