I spent another quiet day with Aunt Yvonne. Listen, Reader. As they say, aging isn't for the faint of heart. I'm 51, and while there are days when I feel as if I've dragged three times as many decades around, there are more where I'm almost blithely unaware of how short our time on earth is -- at least the young part. In the quiet of the room where my aunt's rest is marked by the puff and wheeze of an oxygen machine, I wonder what it's all about, it the operative word. A parade of friends came to visit -- an Indian woman, a Philippino woman, a blonde in a periwinkle sweater, a beautiful Romanian young woman, a Russian Orthodox priest with Alzheimer's in a long, brown robe, a heavy gold chain with a cross dangling, an 84-year old woman who told me she was taking care of her husband with dementia and battling his children in court.
We know what it's all about.
Just outside my aunt's bedroom is an amazing succulent, its waxy eggplant-colored leaves swollen, clusters and clusters of them sprouting from one gnarled branch and in the middle, a cone of yellow flowers so bright and perfect and multitudinous that they made my eyes fill up with tears.
Ah yes. Succinct. Aging is not for the weak at heart. And yes, we know what its all about. "It" gets pretty damn real with each passing year. I am living my ass off over here.
ReplyDeleteI feel it. You there with her. Thought of you all day.
ReplyDeleteSometimes your writing just takes my breath away and this is one of those times. I am 58 and I know too well that there is pretty much nothing good about aging. Oh perhaps wisdom but it's often too late to use it and those younger who could benefit from the wisdom have to live thru their experiences just as I did to learn. The body much like that gnarled branch... You are a mensch to be where you are with your plate as full as it is. I send you a heartfelt hug.
ReplyDeleteWow. Pretty powerful stuff here. Your words are beautiful. Not one wasted. xxk
ReplyDeleteAging is not easy but the alternative, dying young, doesn't appeal to me either. That being said, I do miss my young body and my young mind. This past month between the flu and falling, I've felt like an old woman.
ReplyDeleteI wonder what it's all about too. What's the point? To suffer, only to die? I try to hang onto my belief that it's all about love, to love as deeply and as widely as possible but some days it seems like a crock.
On a theme here today...
ReplyDeleteI just read Terry's post on Where Ya' From? and as you know, she's a hospice nurse. When I was talking to Jessie's midwife yesterday we got onto the topic of death and how similar that birth and death can be on some levels. She pointed out that it is not life which is the opposite of death, but birth, and that what lies between is life. There is a process at both ends, a necessary one.
I'm rambling. I'm sorry. I think about death too often and the fruitlessness, sometimes, of life. The constant struggle and worry, the pain. And of course, the joy, the love. I believe as Lily Cedar does, that it is all about love, to love as she said, as deeply and widely as possible and yet sometimes, it all seems like a crock.
Well, it's certainly all fairly interesting. Hardly any of us dies of boredom.
By the way- I adore you. And you're beautiful. As if your writing.
I know the vigil you keep. It can be so peaceful at times. At others it can feel utterly desolate. You aunt is grateful you are there. Your words are the most beautiful witness.
ReplyDeleteI heard joy described as the ability to accept another human being, fully accept that person. For me those moments of joy are what its all about.
ReplyDeleteI just ordered some Charlottes Web for my daughter! I live in Nebraska and they will ship it! I also filled out an application for a seizure dog! Here goes another adventure with Evie.
ReplyDeleteI actually think living is not for the faint of heart. There are lots of folks out there who aren't doing anything that resembles living, but you, my dear, sure as hell are. And loving, yes, that is what it is all about. Thank you for your shining example of both.
ReplyDeleteI was so impressed that you traveled to visit your ailing aunt despite everything else you juggle in your life. And it clearly wasn't just a "pop in" to fulfill a duty - I see now that you even stayed overnight. So many of the elderly don't have children who would do that, let alone nieces. (I speak from bitter experience with a sibling of mine.)
ReplyDeleteP.S. And ditto what Joanne wrote about your writing in this post. I'm looking forward to telling everyone I knew you before you became renowned.
The way you are handling this sometimes heartbreaking and sometimes wonderful, but mostly revelatory experience is exactly what I would expect of you.
ReplyDeleteFor me aging means that I accept with as much grace as I can muster this inevitable stage of life. Muster, that is the operative word, and some days it isn't much. Some days I wake up and say - what happened?? It seems like just yesterday I was walking down the street, confident in my slim and vibrant beauty. Today I turned around and saw in the mirror my 65 year old age spotted and sagging face, not to mention the entire rest of my sagging body. So I gird my loins (so to speak) slap on some lipstick and stand up as straight as I can in the face of something I can not control and bow humbly to life. And I'm actually pretty much OK with all that sagging, this old body has been through a lot. And it still works!
What do I have left, fifteen, perhaps twenty years? What do you have left, Elizabeth, god - I hope a lot more. But I agree, Lily Cedar put it so beautifully - it's about Love, do it the best that you can. That will help you get through the days when it's total crap. But you help so much with that part of it, E, your beautiful writing lights the path. And a little light is always good. Amen.
I agree with Liv, your writing DOES light the path. Clearly, you love big, and I think that is the center of it all. Here you are, able to be there for your aunt, when so many would run from the task (or chore, or fear, or....). And to rejoice in the succulent and its bloom and juicy meat. Marvelous!
ReplyDeleteI'd be happy to be 51 again. I would not like to be 20 though, unless I could have the understanding that has been beaten into me and gives me the equanimity to accept the life I have.
ReplyDeleteright now neither the aging of my parents or the coming of age of my boys seem for the faint of heart.
ReplyDeleteJust yesterday I heard from two different women both 90 years old about how they are more than ready to leave this planet. All things considered they are both in okayish health but I can't help sending a prayer up for them to get their wish and go. It is not a life that I covet.
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