Screaming in the Dark

(Image from The Dark Manson Tarot)

How’s that for a cheerful title… It’s strange in this little writing experiment I’m doing I have zero concern about strangers reading and what they might think. I have a lot of stress around what the people in my life will think when they read what I have to say. So here goes nothing, I’m doing the scary thing and saying it anyway. Sweetheart, you might not like this one. I’m just working on being completely honest and vulnerable in my writing.

Our landlord is an amazing human. We do not have a normal landlord/tenant relationship. When I was my sickest he would regularly call my husband just to ask how I’m doing. When he started investing in rental properties years ago he made a commitment to renting them at below market because he believes that is the right thing to do. We get together for dinner or wine and snacks from time to time. He helped me with some self healing meditation focusing work when I was extremally ill. He’s a good man and we are so lucky to have found the home we live in. Last week he stood us up for a planned brunch. He apologized profusely and shared with us that he has been diagnosed with a fast moving dementia and that his son is going to take over management of his rental properties. It’s sad and scary and all the feelings. But all I can think is, he’s 83. My husband just turned 77. Six years isn’t enough. I want more. It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

There is nothing rational about this thought. My husband is in significantly better health than I am. He’s fit and healthy and full of energy. He is not a typical 77 year old by any stretch of the imagination. For his birthday he went on two training rides that I can’t even imagine ridding myself let alone at the pace he did. (With a broken toe no less!) There is nothing wrong with him and no rational reason I should be thinking in circles about this. This is not the first time either, it’s just the most recent trigger.

He doesn’t like when I want to talk about this. Understandable, zero judgement. Most of the time if I try to bring it up he tells me not to worry because he’s going to outlive me. Maybe he will. Honestly I’m not sure I want him to engage with me on this topic. What could he possibly say that would fix this? If I don’t know what I need from him on this I can be upset with him for not giving it to me. I guess I just need to find a way inside myself to believe him when he tells me he’s going to outlive me.

When you have a partner who is 38 years older than you odds are pretty good you are going to have to live through losing them. Yes, life is strange and anything could happen, but realistically the odds are good I’m going to be a widow. At it’s best that knowledge forces me to treasure every moment because I know that I have less moments than I would if I married someone my own age. Sometimes I feel like knowing that I will be alone makes everything slightly heightened or more intense. Sometimes I look at friends and family in non age discordant relationships and I wonder if they are forgetting to treasure the moments. It seems like there is so much life in front of you, is dinner on a Tuesday night really that important? Yes, every moment, every meal, it all means something and it’s all important. As the saying goes, the days are long but the years are short.

Then there’s how much and how deeply I love him. In almost every past relationship I’ve almost had one foot out the door. I’ve had some kind of exit plan, a ripcord to pull if it didn’t work out. I have no exit plan. I have no desire or thought about this ending. I do have a plan for when he passes away, but that’s different. It’s not a plan for leaving the relationship it is a plan to survive the pain. I’m going to get a golden retriever (named Jean Luc). I hope to have a home with a large porch where I can sit with Jean Luc and watch the hawks. I’m going to scatter some of his ashes on top of a local mountain (per his request) and some of them in Eastern Oregon where we spent our honeymoon. I’m going to keep a small amount to turn into tattoo ink and some of the family are all going to get matching tattoos for him. When I’m so lost in my grief that I cannot take care of myself one or more of the granddaughters are going to come stay with me to make sure that at least I eat. Sometimes the plan is comforting. Sometimes I can already feel the depth of the pain that I will be in.

Somehow it seems strange to be struggling with this knowledge of mortality at my age. I’ve lost people, I’ve been aware of death for a very long time. Some of it is that I cannot imagine my life without him in it. I asked my therapist if that was codependent. He shared with me that when you are with someone you nervous system actually changes to sync up with the other person. So their loss is physical. So I guess that’s another thing I have to look forward to.

There’s a saying that when you worry you suffer twice. Sometimes I think that is all that I’m doing to myself when I worry (at best) or obsess (at worst) about this. I agreed with him and with myself when we committed to each other that I would rather have whatever years I can have with him than try to find someone that maybe I would like as well. I don’t want to waste these precious years worrying about what I’ll do when he dies. That isn’t fair to either one of us. I can’t just spend the rest of our time together being sad because there is an expiration date. Everything has an expiration date. Hey, bright side, maybe well have some big falling out and get divorced before he dies! (I doubt it… but life is eternally strange and unexpected.) My therapist said that the more you try to not feel what you’re feeling, the more you try to avoid it, the more it builds up. He wants me to just lean into the feeling and assures me that if I do it won’t actually drown me. He assures me that the overwhelming feelings will pass much quicker than I think they will. So this is me, leaning into my feelings.