On My Own

On My Own – February 19, 2015

A sense of responsibility 

   Perhaps because it is February, the month during which I lost my brother in 2007 and my beloved partner in 2008, I sit down to write about being on my own.  In the course of my life I have experienced numerous incidents that were like a tap on my shoulder, each time a reminder that there are times when I must be on my own.  When I was six, I remember standing in the cold of winter waiting for my brother to walk me home from school.  I was not permitted to cross the New York City streets by myself, until that day.  Big brother forgot and arrived home without me.  Mother came running, she was angry and I took advantage of the moment and said clearly and with certainty: “Now, will you let me go to school on my own?”  What a thrill when she said “yes”.  All the way home that memorable day, she instructed me.  By the time we arrived my head was swinging from left to right, right to left in delicious abandon, repeating “look both ways, always look both ways”.

   In later years, at an older age, I remember arguing with my Dad about staying at home alone.  It was against his best judgment; it was an exciting prospect to me.  When I was finally away, at college on my own, I felt like a bird released.  I can still feel the sense of freedom, the excitement of simply being free to decide when to eat dinner, what to order, finally I felt I was on my own.

   Then I returned home from college, once more to the nest where, “what are your plans” became a consistent, though courteous question.  Dad still had trouble with my being home alone despite the fact that he had no idea when or if I was alone in the dorm at school.  That was not a subject for discussion. Then I graduated from college and went job hunting, a frustrating, disheartening experience.  Finally I faced reality: a Bachelor’s Degree in the social sciences, prepared me for nothing! The need for graduate training raised its head.  I went hunting, I knew I wanted social work; a summer’s experience working with disadvantaged kids had pointed the way.  I found a fellowship that enabled me to exchange a year of grad school for a year on the staff of Family Service of Cincinnati.  That meant two years in a large city where I knew no one, two years on my own.  I grabbed the opportunity.

   That experience lasted two years and I enjoyed every minute.  I loved making decisions for myself, I loved the freedom to choose, to decide, to follow through or not as I wished.  Then I met the love of my life.  In making a decision to marry both Erv Herman and I agreed that I would give up, to a degree, the delicious feeling of being on my own.  We also agreed that we were not each other’s parents, as a couple we were on our own together to decide those things couples are responsible for.   As individuals we would never give up our sense of self, our responsibility to ourselves.  As our family grew and our bond strengthened, we made individual decisions and joint ones as well.  I never thought again about being on my own.  We were a family.  We discussed the decisions and made choices together.  Then after many years, more than sixty years my sweetheart died and left me once again, on my own.

   This time was different.  I am grateful that he never knew or understood what it was like to be suddenly on my own at the age of 86:  so many years of togetherness, making decisions together, checking out choices together, being each other’s sounding board, watching facial expressions, knowing what each was thinking before a word was spoken.  We had grown up together and thus had grown together.  Yes, I was bereft in the beginning and often until this day.  When anything important has to be decided, I find myself yelling, “Where are you – how could you leave with this – I do not know what to do!” 

   I am on my own to discover what I must do!  This time for good, this time really and truly!  I am doing fine.  I make my own decisions and when I hit a wall and cannot decide, I have a couple of good people who help me weigh my alternatives.  I have one person I turn to when I bump into a financial problem; another individual helps me with those “emotional” roadblocks that we all run into.  Others, friends and some family form a fine support system. I know to whom to turn for each unique problem that is to me, a life-engaging problem. Yes, I’m very much on my own; because I cannot have Erv back, I now treasure every single moment of my independence.