Loneliness – April 9. 2015
I have just made an interesting discovery, one that turns my thinking upside down and it is good. Loneliness is defined as isolated, without companionship, sounds like a bad thing. It can, however, be a good thing too. I have discovered that when I am lonely, I generally feel bad and very sorry for myself. My mind wanders and I begin to list, in my head, all the things that are wrong, today, right now. That kind of thinking leads to a longing for the love of my life: my partner and my best friend. The longing then leads me on, to think about him and his death but seven years ago. I find that I am suddenly engulfed in a sea of memories, wonderful, tear jerking yet delicious memories. Like my tongue seeks the sore tooth and keeps returning to the “pleasure” of the soreness, I continue to think about him.
When my loneliness finds my memories, it is suddenly no longer sad but sweet and sometimes, funny. Remember the definition above speaks of the lack of companionship and its relationship to loneliness. In the years that I have been without a companion, I have found no one to take his place, I feel comfortable in knowing: no one can!
Our 63 year-old marriage has left me with a plethora of stories, happy and sad stories; exciting and boring stories. When I tried recently to write them down, our daughter reminded me that she had heard them all. I despise repetition, but I chance it now. My memories reside in the pictures that Erv and I placed on the walls of this home: Judi and Jeff as toddlers, Erv and Ag as newlyweds, Mother and Dad as young folks. Those memories do not hurt; they keep me company.
Without my memories, my life would be pale and malnourished. With the warmth and joy of my memories, life is stronger, even joyous as I remember the wonderful times we shared. I remember the time a group of us piled into a car to drive the 80 miles between Cincinnati and Dayton for good corned beef sandwiches. What fun we had. I also recall the time at a colleague’s wedding, after we sent the bride and groom off, three of us laid on the floor, emptied the bowl of Champagne punch, sucking through straws to inhale every sip. Because I imbibed the least, I was elected to drive us safely back to our hotel. I was so proud that our friend trusted me to drive his new Plymouth on strange roads.
The two most important days of our young lives were the days that we brought our children home from the adoption agency. The days were 18 months apart and as different as were the two little ones from each other. Two bright, brown-eyed kids with temperaments as different as day from night, both delighted us: Jeff with his calm and Judi with her volatility. They kept us on our toes as they grew and matured into adulthood. They made us very proud and at times sad and confused. That is what parenting is all about. Had I had nine months to think about all that, I would not have changed my mind about having children but I might have been more prepared.
Until the day he died, Erv and I disagreed on which one of us asked Jeff the vital question: “Are you gay or in trouble, you are acting strangely…?”
His answer “I am gay,” set us on a very unfamiliar path, taught us about homosexuality and strengthened the love we shared with our son. Not long after, Judi took us to a “meeting”, naïve and innocent we had no idea where we were or why she rose to the podium and said, “My name is Judi and I have been sober for a year!” We were totally unprepared for Jeff’s statement of who he was, or Judi’s statement explaining why we had not seen much of her.
Our love for these children never diminished despite the challenges they offered. Many times when they were little, we would tell them, “We might not always like what you are doing, but we will never stop loving you.” We meant it and lived it for more years than their ages at the time of their “confessions”.