I rose again this morning in the early hour of 3 s.m. Rather than toss and turn in bed, my trusty canine, Mocha, and I rise and get going. I can’t tell you how complicated a things are when your partner dies. I mean, Sabine and I have in so many ways prepared for her death — that’s what a terminal cancer diagnosis can do.
Sabine was concerned for these 13 years about what would happen to me when she died. She was organized and her love for me showed through illness, setbacks, fallls, and tumors.
Today is the 21st day without her. I am regaining same balance. I cry less — you know, those spontaneous tears that come after a beautiful memory of an event we shared and took joy in. I am not angry. I am just sad. But having said that, we both were fully blessed that we had 40 years together and the last 13 of them was an extra gift of managed blood cancer and kidney failure.
Hey, when we were given lemons (kidney failure, broken bones from falls on ice, a barn loft, and our boat) we squeezed those lemons: chose home hemodialysis and took that dialysis machine traveling — camper, boat, mountain lodge, and train. We made sweet lemonade!
So where am I now? I live here in our old farmhouse in the unglaciated hills of south central Wisconsin, I truly sense her presence here — I won’t be moving away. As a wrote earlier, Sabine has died, she has not “passed.” She remains deeply embedded in my heart and psyche, so embedded that I know I will never be without her presence. (Not quite in keeping with my seminary training, right? But I have to tell you that I better understand the resurrection stories of Jesus today because of what I have experienced; that is, how some relationships can never die, can never pass.)
My goal in the few remaining years I have on this earth is to live more simply; to simplify my life.. Each year on New Year’s Eve we wrote personal and family goals. One was to “live more simply so that lathers may simply live.” I guess it’s not unlike the last stage of life that Hindus recognize — renunciation.
This farm has become my hermitage as I try to live a more integrated life without Sabine’s physical presence, It is one more effort to make
Hugs....
ReplyDeleteFather David, the moment I heard Ms Sabine had died I felt conflicted. Happiness that she was no longer bound to her disease and knowing with all I am, she has moved on. On the other hand I felt incredibly sad, I can only imagine what her loss must feel like to you. If you remember us, we drove 40 minutes to church on Sunday, usually arriving while the bell was tolling. What always felt uplifting was the moment we saw Sabine's smiling face as she was waiting for the Sunday School kids....Liz would run in to her arms, I remember the look on her face - just pure joy to be with Ms Sabine. She always made us feel welcomed and loved. It was our blessing to witness the love - the humor - the oneness between the two of you. I will be thinking of you and praying for your peace. Lindy
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