I have the sense this was difficult for you to write, Trevy. I feel like everything in life is in the eye of the beholder as it were, so I will comment here-through the eyes of my personal experience. Had my own potentially life-threatening medical emergency, as well as being part of the dying process of both of my parents, I think it is an interesting feature of our species to know we are going to die eventually but somehow can't escape the fear of it. An old friend once said to me he wasn't afraid of being dead but he was scared as hell of the last 30 seconds of his life. It was sort of a left-handed joke, but it well describes the ambivalent nature of this issue. Thank you for writing this... More people should be encouraged to making the most out of the life we get rather than spending our final years worrying about something over which they were born being unable to control.
Oh Trevy, my heart goes out to you. From one widow to another, I get it. It's the "what ifs" and the "should haves" that get to us, even years later. It really is our brains trying to make sense of something awful by drawing unfair conclusions. We cannot go back in time, but oh how I wish we could.
Even though we know it's impossible, our brain still reenacts scenarios where we could go back and change something. We feel at the mercy of circumstances outside of our control, and it's so scary. However, we do have agency over how we react to tragic events when they do happen. It's a process, and it doesn't happen overnight, but we can find not only acceptance but peace in knowing we did the very best that we could given what we knew then (an with no sleep in 2 days).
I donated my husband's body to the anatomy department of a medical school. When they were done with their studies, his ashes were returned to me. He had cancer, so I could not donate any organs, but he was and I am an organ donor. I don't trust the medical community implicitly, but I do know organ donation is done with many checks and balances. I'm glad you received some letters from the donor recipients.
I also agree with you about dying with dignity. I'm in the US, but I know in Canada they have a Medical Assistance In Dying (MAID) law nationwide. I recently heard from a widow whose husband had suffered a massive stroke, but after months and months of care, he was still severely affected both mentally and physically.
He was cleared by doctors and psychologists after weeks of testing and chose MAID. It was tragic and beautiful the way she described how he got to say goodbye to his loved ones and be surrounded by friends and family. I'm sending you a big hug as we head into the weekend. There are no "right" answers, we are all just doing the best we can.
Thanks, Amy. It's a little weird to write these things from the place where I am now, living in new and very good love. But we always miss our lost loved ones and it's impossible not to consider death and our mortality ever after. I'm sorry for your suffering with it but I do enjoy seeing glimpses of your new life taking shape❤️ Thanks for your positive thoughts on this organ subject as well.
Thank you Trevy. You bring up such an important point that I think a lot of “non grievers” don’t understand — moving forward and finding new love does not mean we are “over” our loss. Widows receive so much judgement when it comes to dating, sex and relationships. It’s either too soon or we’re wallowing too long in our pain. We are told to hide all evidence of our dead husbands because we don’t want to make a new man feel insecure about our feelings for them. Would we tell someone who lost a child to “get over it” and hide all photos of them? Of course not, so why do we expect that of widows? It’s not easy to find a man who can understand the duality of loving two people (one dead and one alive). I’m glad you found one.
I will soon be 80. 80% of the friends my age already have a major diagnosis. Modern medicine has kept most of us alive, but not all of us. For a decade, beginning before I retired, I was part of a five man ROMEO group (Retired Old Men Eating Out). Now we don’t meet. One moved far away, one died, one is in diapers, one can’t remember how to get to the diner, and me. It’s very sad and frightening.
My wife and I have begun to talk about if we should sign up for a continuing care living place. I’m not that social. My wife told me I can’t die because she needs me to help her with her Type-1 diabetes.
I am not afraid of dying, but I’m still having too much fun being alive and I’m not in pain. Also, I want to be there when I die. I want to know what it’s like. I’m upset that I won’t have time to appreciate how it happens, or to write it down and think about it. At this age, mortality is obvious and ever-present.
Whoever named your dining club was genius. There is no denying the many losses we experience as humans. We start changing on day one and it never stops. At the later end of our lives, we look at changes with a lot more gravity. I don't know if it's possible to age with a lighter hand, and not be so fearful, but the fact that you're having so much fun is encouraging. Why waste that on others' fears? I suspect that, in a care facility or not, you will find your way to keep doing that. And when your time comes, decide to remain present for it. Anyone left behind will find their way too. This is your experience. You seem fully aware of that. Thank you for reading and contributing.
It was such a dark period of your life. I'm sorry you had to go through it. Bill was such a wonderful, strong man. He lives on through our memories and also, the lives that were changed because he was a donor.
I have the sense this was difficult for you to write, Trevy. I feel like everything in life is in the eye of the beholder as it were, so I will comment here-through the eyes of my personal experience. Had my own potentially life-threatening medical emergency, as well as being part of the dying process of both of my parents, I think it is an interesting feature of our species to know we are going to die eventually but somehow can't escape the fear of it. An old friend once said to me he wasn't afraid of being dead but he was scared as hell of the last 30 seconds of his life. It was sort of a left-handed joke, but it well describes the ambivalent nature of this issue. Thank you for writing this... More people should be encouraged to making the most out of the life we get rather than spending our final years worrying about something over which they were born being unable to control.
Thank you, David. It always feels good to write hard things and it does help to keep me focused on the preciousness of our lives.
Thank you for you for giving your voice to this.
Thank you for reading it.
Oh Trevy, my heart goes out to you. From one widow to another, I get it. It's the "what ifs" and the "should haves" that get to us, even years later. It really is our brains trying to make sense of something awful by drawing unfair conclusions. We cannot go back in time, but oh how I wish we could.
Even though we know it's impossible, our brain still reenacts scenarios where we could go back and change something. We feel at the mercy of circumstances outside of our control, and it's so scary. However, we do have agency over how we react to tragic events when they do happen. It's a process, and it doesn't happen overnight, but we can find not only acceptance but peace in knowing we did the very best that we could given what we knew then (an with no sleep in 2 days).
I donated my husband's body to the anatomy department of a medical school. When they were done with their studies, his ashes were returned to me. He had cancer, so I could not donate any organs, but he was and I am an organ donor. I don't trust the medical community implicitly, but I do know organ donation is done with many checks and balances. I'm glad you received some letters from the donor recipients.
I also agree with you about dying with dignity. I'm in the US, but I know in Canada they have a Medical Assistance In Dying (MAID) law nationwide. I recently heard from a widow whose husband had suffered a massive stroke, but after months and months of care, he was still severely affected both mentally and physically.
He was cleared by doctors and psychologists after weeks of testing and chose MAID. It was tragic and beautiful the way she described how he got to say goodbye to his loved ones and be surrounded by friends and family. I'm sending you a big hug as we head into the weekend. There are no "right" answers, we are all just doing the best we can.
Thanks, Amy. It's a little weird to write these things from the place where I am now, living in new and very good love. But we always miss our lost loved ones and it's impossible not to consider death and our mortality ever after. I'm sorry for your suffering with it but I do enjoy seeing glimpses of your new life taking shape❤️ Thanks for your positive thoughts on this organ subject as well.
Thank you Trevy. You bring up such an important point that I think a lot of “non grievers” don’t understand — moving forward and finding new love does not mean we are “over” our loss. Widows receive so much judgement when it comes to dating, sex and relationships. It’s either too soon or we’re wallowing too long in our pain. We are told to hide all evidence of our dead husbands because we don’t want to make a new man feel insecure about our feelings for them. Would we tell someone who lost a child to “get over it” and hide all photos of them? Of course not, so why do we expect that of widows? It’s not easy to find a man who can understand the duality of loving two people (one dead and one alive). I’m glad you found one.
That's exactly it, Amy. What worked for me was finding another widower!
I will soon be 80. 80% of the friends my age already have a major diagnosis. Modern medicine has kept most of us alive, but not all of us. For a decade, beginning before I retired, I was part of a five man ROMEO group (Retired Old Men Eating Out). Now we don’t meet. One moved far away, one died, one is in diapers, one can’t remember how to get to the diner, and me. It’s very sad and frightening.
My wife and I have begun to talk about if we should sign up for a continuing care living place. I’m not that social. My wife told me I can’t die because she needs me to help her with her Type-1 diabetes.
I am not afraid of dying, but I’m still having too much fun being alive and I’m not in pain. Also, I want to be there when I die. I want to know what it’s like. I’m upset that I won’t have time to appreciate how it happens, or to write it down and think about it. At this age, mortality is obvious and ever-present.
Whoever named your dining club was genius. There is no denying the many losses we experience as humans. We start changing on day one and it never stops. At the later end of our lives, we look at changes with a lot more gravity. I don't know if it's possible to age with a lighter hand, and not be so fearful, but the fact that you're having so much fun is encouraging. Why waste that on others' fears? I suspect that, in a care facility or not, you will find your way to keep doing that. And when your time comes, decide to remain present for it. Anyone left behind will find their way too. This is your experience. You seem fully aware of that. Thank you for reading and contributing.
Whenever I think about dying, it shakes me. It seems closer than it probably is. But no time is guaranteed, no happy ending assured.
And then I get overwhelmed at the beauty of what is present, even in the shit of everyday life.
And then I straddle an impossibility: I won't let go, I choose not to hold on too tightly. Just fasten my seat belt and ride along.
No answers here, but eminently grateful to be part of the conversation.
Very wise. I'm glad to have you here!
It was such a dark period of your life. I'm sorry you had to go through it. Bill was such a wonderful, strong man. He lives on through our memories and also, the lives that were changed because he was a donor.
Thank you❣️