my life floats down a river of words
on paragraphs, syllables, tales once heard
they call out as I drift by
love and pain, both truth and lies
emphatic “yes!”
a stolid “no.”
the overused, unhelpful “so”
“goodbye”
“forever”
“I’ll be there”
“why not?”
“you said”
“I don’t care”
“quiet, please”
“how can I think?”
“have you ever seen the sky so pink?”
the words speed up
the rapids roar
fearful sounds from times before
then I’m lost and swept away
chaos and cacophony
gulping right and spitting wrong
gasping as I’m thrown along
shouting voices, “me! me! me!”
screaming insecurity
then bashed on conflict’s argument
my heart gives out
my soul is spent
in drowning plight
I see a dove
one final thought
remember
love
the verbal roar falls far behind
consciousness comes back to mind
as grace, sweet heaven, sets me free
and quiet waters welcome me
my life floats down a river of words
heading towards a voice unheard
yet whispers on the waves call me
“you can, dear one, you can be free”
has love been worth
the silly fears of youthful years
the agony and sobbing tears
rejections, dejections, emotions tossed
plans and hopes and dreams now lost
has love been worth the unmet wants
the emptiness of sensual haunts
the births, the deaths
the final breaths
the agony of cried regrets
all this for a glimpse of bliss
the rapture of a secret kiss
a sudden smile
a soft caress
the eternity of souls confessed
and so I ask a broken heart
as time tugs our love apart
was it worth the cost
the moment’s flame?
ah, yes
sighs the sent
the sight
the memory
of a single rose
Don’t it always seem to go
that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone
Joni Mitchell, “Big Yellow Taxi”
As I listened to Joni sing about paving paradise, I realized I’ve recently lost two big things in my life.
Sex and fishing.
Fishing used to be my soul food, what I craved when life went sideways, dreams were slipping away, or I just needed a break from the human race. My typical fishing trip was an impetuous decision to get out of town, followed by tossing rod, clothes, and snacks into the car and heading out. I had some trusted spots and a mental list of obscure places on the map that had possibilities. I was often several miles down the road before a clear direction became obvious. Location really didn’t matter much, I just wanted to be standing alone in a stream, feeling the sun’s warmth on my face, filling my nostrils with the invigorating air of wildness, casting a fly towards some trophy fish fantasy.
One of the many blessings of our marriage is that my wife found fishing intoxicating too. I remember her excited squeals when she caught her first trout and her delighted giggles as she released it and watched it dart away. I remember looking past her at the backdrop of golden aspen leaves dancing in an azure sky, on a glorious fall day. I remember thinking this is as good as it gets.
Blindness ended such impetuous outings. In time, I found a guide who took the pair of us down a favorite river in his drift boat. It felt great to be on the water again, but I can’t pretend it was anything like before. Still, we enjoyed floating through a quiet world on a beautiful day, trying to wake fish who didn’t want to play. The tranquility was shattered when dementia struck and my wife’s mind melted down. She had to get out of the boat. Words could not calm her and the guide rowed us to shore.
We haven’t been fishing since.
Then there’s sex. We’ve been wonderful, passionate lovers, always open, always eager to please each other. With us, it just happens, a kiss, a touch, a fond embrace and love unfolds. But, recently, I noticed that, in spite of these triggers, nothing else was happening. The woman who once loved to play sexually was now a child who just wanted to be cared for. Dementia had stolen another part of the woman I love and the life we shared together.
My blindness has put such losses in perspective. I’d never expected to lose my sight and the experience was devastating. But I survived and, with the help of friends, learned to explore and appreciate all those things in life that can’t be seen. I also learned that things we treasure can disappear in an instant.
Do I miss sex? Heck yes, and I also miss my wife’s killer guacamole. But these things are not coming back so I need to be grateful for what we do have. She still loves to kiss and hug and she’s very good at it. She still makes my day on our walks when she rushes up to coo and smile at every baby we meet. She still holds my hand as we sit on our favorite bench on the beach and share the feelings of living in a beautiful world.
And fishing? Another tough goodbye, but the fly fishing rod that sat on a shelf by the door for three years waiting in vain to be taken away on another impetuous adventure is now in the hands of my new son-in-law who has a a matching passion. I expect some marvelous stories will be coming my way soon.
In case you’re a Joni Mitchell fan, here’s a link to “Big Yellow Taxi.”
I’ve been loved before, been involved intimately with other women, women with good hearts who cared for me. But I couldn’t let them in. Immaturity, insecurity, ego, fear, the stress of too much or too little work, etc., etc., excuses.
Or, to put it bluntly, it took me along time to grow up.
Yes, there were the other extremes, the women I did open up to, loved big, but still we failed. They were on their own journeys and our souls could not balance on the scales of love.
And so went my life lessons in loving, from ecstasy to despair, until I finally met her, my wife. Perhaps it was love at first sight, but it took time to melt through the layers of fear we’d accumulated to protect our hearts from pain.
Or, to put it simply, we grew back to being the children of love we are
I’m better suited to marathons than sprints. My most satisfying successes have been the result of disciplined and persistent efforts focused on achieving goals over long periods of time. Yes, I’ll admit that such persistence has sometimes turned into close minded stubbornness that compelled me to continue with failed pursuits which should have been abandoned long before. Such lessons had to be learned.
From early on, I was never much of a sprinter, not one to jump into things for quick rewards. Part of this was certainly how I was brought up, believing success demands hard work and disciplined effort. I learned the value of patience and persistence. I also learned that success, or at least success as I’d defined it in the moment, was sometimes something I had no control over. More lessons.
Which brings me to now and my present life challenge, a blind man caring for his dementia stricken wife.
I seem to have been perfectly trained for this opportunity. My personality, my values, my previous life experiences have prepared me well. Yet, while I take some comfort in this knowledge, there is also the realization that this is a race where there will be no celebration at the finish line.
This is a marathon which must be run one day at a time, satisfaction gained only upon reflection each night when I ask myself-
It has been raining in our town, a string of wet, dark, gloomy days that make it easy to stay inside, sit in the easy chair beside my wife as she colors happily, relax, and listen to life happeningaround me.
Lost in this oblivion, I heard my mind say, “pay attention-
a familiar song was playing on the radio. It was Joni Mitchell singing “Both Sides, Now.”
Both Sides, Now
Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way
I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all
Moons and Junes and ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way
But now it’s just another show
You leave ’em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away
I’ve looked at love from both sides now
From give and take and still somehow
It’s love’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know love at all
Tears and fears and feeling proud,
To say “I love you” right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way
But now old friends they’re acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day.
I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all
Joni Mitchell, 1968
These words pulled me into a cosmic pinball game, emotions flashing, as my heart bounced up, down, and around through forgotten memories. Yes, I’d heard this song before, but not the way, years later,I heard it now.
I was left with two thoughts-
Joni Mitchell is a heckuva songwriter and musician.
We seldom notice the small changes in those close to us, but over time, these changes add up. Suddenly, we are aware of differences. Our children have grown up. Our parents have grown old.
My wife’s dementia has deteriorated.
She is more confused, no longer remembering where our children live, forgetting names and places. She is more fearful, often upset by imaginary ghosts. She needs more help with daily functions, getting dressed, brushing teeth, taking a shower. She cannot be left alone, this causes her extreme anxiety. Her spoken words are often unintelligible, gibberish.
That said, there’s another side to this story. She is still filled with love and joy, greeting all we meet with a smile and “thank you, very good day!” She still loves to color, spending afternoons with crayons and coloring designs as she whistles happily. She is easily directed, no arguments about the right jacket to wear, going shopping, visiting friends, or what I’m serving for dinner.
It has been five years now since I became aware of my wife’s dementia. the mental deterioration process has been slow but all the little losses have added up. She now requires twenty four hour care, although much of the time little direct supervision is necessary. She is more confused and fragile, requiring my careful consideration in in response to her emotional needs.
Still, she is healthy and active, we enjoy our daily walks through town, visits to restaurants, phone conversations with family. But this will change, the disease will further consume her brain, there will come a time where meeting her needs will be more than I can do alone.
For now, I continue to do what we love with the woman I love for as long as we can.
I took off my clothes, then asked one more time, “do you want to take a shower?”
“No!”
Okay, fine, I thought, I’m taking a shower by myself. I was tired, not feeling well, and the thought of soaking under a stream of hot water was delicious. I needed it. I’d asked my wife three times if she’d wanted to join me because recently I’ve had to shower with her to ensure she was washed thoroughly. She enjoys this.
But, she said, “no!”
I lost myself in the showers warm deluge, letting fatigue and aches melt away. Eventually, I turned off the water, dried myself and put on pajamas, then approached my wife, who was lying in bed.
“You don’t love me,” she said defiantly, “why didn’t you shower with me?”
Obviously, I’d made a mistake, something I often do when tired.
Obviously, her previous “no!” meant “yes!”
I’d forgotten that she is now so attached to me that she expects we will do everything together. If we don’t, something is wrong.
It took a lotof soothing talk and caresses before her anger dissolved and her usual loving self returned. I’ve learned that these situations simply require patience and eventually harmony is restored.
Later, as she slept soundly beside me, I pondered how easy it is to do everything right and still have things go wrong.
Travels with Tio 