November

November is a complicated month for me. It is full of family birthdays and also deaths. It is the month I married John in 1965 and the month of his death in 1996. Along about October every year -- when the leaves start to turn -- a sadness sneaks up on me, even when I'm not thinking about him. Somehow, at some level, I know 'tis the season. But November also means moving on. It was in November 1999 that I met my second husband Bruce. We have been happily married for almost 19 years now. Life does indeed go on, replete with both sad and joyful memories.

The Sylvia Story

Im going back in time here, about 25 years to the day my husband died unexpectedly. It was the day before Thanksgiving in 1996. Our shocked family gathered round the table the next day, a ritual I found extremely comforting. Then there were calls to friends, funeral arrangements to be made, grieving to be done. In the middle of all this, my local friends organized a reception for Sunday. It was just a sad, unbelievable blur. Along about Saturday my neighbor Sylvia, who was also a widow -- a term I would have to adjust to -- called to offer her sympathy. "Thank you, Sylvia," I said, "I really appreciate that because I know you understand how it feels." "Yes, I do," she replied, "and it never gets any better." I've always wanted to thank Sylvia for that remark because she gave me the first laugh I'd had in days. As sad as I was, even then I believed "things" would get better. After we hung up I turned to my son who was nearby and had watched my reaction to Sylvia's comment. "You won't believe what Sylvia just said to me!" I burst out. Since that day that phrase became a watchword between my son and me. Anytime there was a problem, he would look at me and say, "You know, Mom, it never gets any better," later shortened to "You know, Mom . . ." Now, of course, I realize what Sylvia was trying to say: that one never totally recovers from the loss of a loved one. Her intentions were sincere, but the presentation was the most precious: an opportunity to laugh.

Eighty-one

I'm not getting any younger. Funny thing. But these days I am really feeling my age. I've been blessed with reasonbly good health and energy for 80 years. Why shouldn't it be my turn to take a hit? Anyway, since January when my atrial fibrillation kicked up and wouldn't go away, it's been one thing after another. Two cardio-versions managed to get my heart back ito sinus rhythm. That was in February. An ablation ensured (I hope) that it will not return, the only problem being that the ablation caused bleeding into the pericardium (the sack that surrounds the heart) and resulted in a hospital stay of five days. It was supposed to be a same-day procedure. That was in April. After that my shortness of breath seemed to worsen. After that I had a fall that bruised my ribs and gave me a black eye. That was in June. Oh, and I've been nauseas, appetite down, lost 9 pounds. OK I'll stop here. Let's just say I don't feel well. Walking is a chore, not the pleasure it's always been for me. Swimming doesn't sound like fun either with bruised ribs. Is it always going to be like this? I realize that with age comes compromise and loss of many activities, not to mention friends and relatives. Will I simply have to accept this quality of life? I'm hoping it will improve. It doesn't have to be perfect, just better. Wish me luck.