Rough Waters

Friday morning. It is a glorious morning filled with potential, yet I have been sitting here for the last two hours, aimlessly browsing the internet and playing a few games of addiction solitaire. I cannot seem to write. I have been trying to put words to the page all week, with little success.

This has been a week of highs and lows. Last Saturday, we smiled as we walked by a family unloading a car full of pink balloons and cakes! A celebration to welcome a daughter and granddaughter. We were heading to the next room for a very different event, a celebration of life for a colleague of my husband’s who died far too young from cancer. I had only met him once, over twenty-five years ago, at a work function in Whistler. I remember him in the pool with our little girls - lifting them high over his head and throwing them in the water. I remember their squeals of laughter. My girls adored him. This may sound weird, but this was the best celebration of life I have ever attended. It was a true celebration, with speeches by friends he had known since kindergarten and a beautiful eulogy read by his confident, composed young daughter. As we walked out, my husband shared that he wished he had gotten to know him better. How sad that we wait to celebrate someone when they are gone.

There has been more sadness this week. A family member goes back for yet another bout of chemotherapy next week. A recurrence of breast cancer after twenty-three years for someone else we hold dear. And all morning I have been nervously waiting for blood tests results for our other old cat, Milo. The vet thinks it is diabetic neuropathy. We had thought his strange gait was due to weight, but instead, his back legs are weak. (A few hours later. The vet just called with the happy news that Milo does not have diabetes. We will head back for x-rays. Now that diabetic neuropathy has been ruled out she thinks it might be arthritis.)

Death and illness are always balanced by birth and life’s many joys. This week we also have so much to celebrate. A new job for one of the kids, birthdays, and our 37th anniversary. This morning, I read a quote from an On Being interview. Paulo Coehlo says people ask him how he’s been married to the same woman for 40 years, and he says, ‘Simple, she’s not the same woman. (And I’m not the same man.) We’ve both changed.’ I think of how much my husband and I have both changed over the years. A good thing because I don’t think either of us could have remained married to the younger versions of ourselves.

This week was also the final session I facilitated of Women Rowing North: Writing Our Life Stories. The theme this week was On the Brink of Everything, sparked by Parker J. Palmer’s quote:

Welcome to the brink of everything. It takes a lifetime to get here, but the stunning view of past, present, and future—and the bracing breeze in your face—make it worth the trip…

…Looking back, I see why I needed the tedium and the inspiration, the anger and the love, the anguish and the joy. I see how it all belongs, even those days of despair when the darkness overwhelmed me. Calamities I once lamented now appear as strong threads of a larger weave, without which the fabric of my life would be less resilient. Moments of fulfillment I failed to relish in my impatience to get on to the next thing now appear as times to be recalled and savored. And I’ve doubled down on my gratitude for those who’ve helped me along with love, affirmation, hard questions, daunting challenges, compassion, and forgiveness.

These workshops bring me such joy. The women bond quickly and feel safe to share beautiful stories, usually deeply personal. The last participant to read her story shared a quote by Gail Sheehy, reminding us that the stereotypes of older women are so far removed from who we really are.

A seasoned woman is spicy. She has been marinated in life experience. Like a complex wine, she can be alternately sweet, tart, sparkling, mellow. She is both maternal and playful.

This is an affirming expression of our journey, which also comes with challenges. This week, aches and pains have made me feel my age. I worry whether physiotherapy will help my knees recover sufficiently to hike through the Douro Valley this fall. I have lost some hearing in my left ear; this makes me feel old! And I am struggling to lose the weight I have put on since the pandemic. The pounds don’t bother me, but the impact on my overall health does. As you can imagine, when I am overwhelmed by all that life has thrown at me, I am even more keenly aware of my aging body.

As I write, I realize I am emotionally drained - from the good, the bad, and the uncertain! No wonder I have been struggling with this week’s blog post. Right now, I just want to dive into another mindless murder mystery. I have already read two this week. I want to hibernate. I feel like I have lived a lifetime this week.

Saturday morning. I have just read Linda’s blog post, The Rituals of Retirement on her blog, The Precious Days. I realize the intentional practices I use to help ground me have flown out the window this week! Instead of diving into a mindless murder mystery, I will pick up May Oliver’s book of poetry, Devotions, and lose myself in some of her poems. Then, I will spend a couple of hours researching a new project. 

Sunday morning. I am breathing a bit deeper this morning. I feel like I have found my way back to calm waters.