I'm runnin' on automatic today, nose in the air to sniff the changes I sense coming. It looks like Mama is going to have to move. The family is circling the wagons to see what we can do. It's not a surprise. We all knew it was coming. There's a level of denial that is very helpful for dealing with a long term illness like Alzheimers though, and I've taken full advantage of it. So yes, I'm taken aback.
With my history of depression, the very thing that propelled my retirement this year, I always keep a sharp lookout for hints of a relapse --- overly sensitive feelings, too much sleep, dragged out energy, dwelling on death ---- and have been ticking them off as they arise. I'm on the alert though not falling down a hole. But sometimes . . . sometimes life IS depressing. Sometimes that's the appropriate response.
You know what happens as the pile of years behind you grows larger than the pile ahead? Your perspective changes. I've seen cycles go round and round in public and private life. Every generation has its own discoveries to make and, unfortunately, has wheels to reinvent. No matter how much experience resides in the elders, some lessons only take when they're learned through experience. So I look behind me and see the swell of new, energetic, young people coming down the path, and I look ahead and watch for signposts that will help me discern the way, and mostly I feel the comfort of being in the middle of the herd, a part of humanity, one of many. But sometimes, I just feel alone.
When sad things are happening, how do you not feel sad forever? How do you move through the tears and believe that there's sunshine further along? I have spent a lifetime learning all the strategies and wisdom that philosophy, friendship and therapy can provide. But there's no shelter from the pain of living and loving and losing them both.
This too shall pass.
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