The Older I Get
Seems to me the older I get the more fearful I become. Not rational, of course, but it is an emotion that I cannot control. I fear that some dread event will take away my happiness. I am loath to see my husband go anywhere without me. What if he had an accident and I wasn't there, wasn't with him? If something happened to him I would want it to happen to me, too. I cannot think of being, without him. Without him I am not. My life is so intertwined with his, I am so dependent upon him for everything, for each breath I take.
This makes me sound ultra dependent. In some ways I am dependent, but in a great many other ways I am not, anything but. Does one cancel out the other? I have my own views on so many things, and he has his. They often converge, but often enough they do not. We discuss, we argue points, we come to conclusions, we do not always agree. Having said which, this does not, in any way, occasion friction between us. At least rarely, and even then there is no real depth to it.
Of course the fact that I've had his companionship for almost all of my life has a great deal to do with the way I cherish his presence. I should explain: I wouldn't care one whit if he decided to join some kind of men's group, a club of some kind, or to venture out on some kind of interest which would by its nature preclude me. I would, actually, welcome it. I would be happy at the thought that he has embraced another interest and has decided to pursue it. He doesn't have to be around me. It is the knowledge, the idea that he is safe, that he is engaged, that he is full of his life, with or without me that would comfort me.
Heaven knows he has so many interests. His mind is never still, he is always and forever thinking, imagining, creating. If he isn't reading something, he is actively engaged in doing something. His interests are myriad, his ability to absorb concepts, to teach himself new methods, never fail to astound me. For that reason alone I would have the utmost respect for this man. His incisive mind, his cynical observations which so often result in deliberately comical conclusions amuse me no end.
His attentiveness toward me, his unfailing reaching out to ensure that I am always aware that he loves and treasures me never fails to reassure me. That he will race up stairs from the basement to turn the radio on so that I can share with him the pleasure of hearing a piece of baroque music that we love, gives me no end of good feelings. There are so many instances of his treating me as a parent does a child, reminding me of things I would surely not forget, worrying that I am not dressed sufficiently for the weather; that can be irritating. So that I know how he feels when I treat him incessantly to the same degree of stated concern. These are small irritants that we tolerate in one another in the knowledge that this expresses our concern for each other.
We are increasingly sharing the little symptoms of growing older. Instead of leaping out of bed, we enjoy staying abed, listening to the news, to classical music. We can talk, discuss things, until a sense of guilt kicks in and up we go. There are little aches and pains. He insists that I slow down when we're clambering up a hill, because I just don't have the lung capacity and the stamina I used to have. He will stop me as I labour, and encircle my shoulders with his strong arms, until it is obvious I have overcome the momentary stress.
I worry about the state of his health. He is a strong and healthy man. Neither one of us has what might be called a chronic medical condition. We do have a chronically-human condition, and that, of course, is the passing of years. We were both dreadfully, miserably taken by surprise when he was ill with bladder cancer, but the treatment he received helped him fight that misery, and he is well. Mind, the state of his enlarged prostate is an everyday problem as well, but one that we can live with, including the discomfort it affords him. I anticipate a prolonged, long life together. At least another half-century, why not? We will prop one another up. As we do, in every conceivable way.
posted by Pieface @ Thursday, November 24, 2005
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