PANDEMIC DIARY
WHY?
August 24,2021
“Be kind for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.” SOCRATES
[What is neurosis if not the adaptation to a desire to avoid reality. This blog is my self-help dialogue, an attempt to address somber, bitter, and sad feelings; a bid to speak to a reality I recently became aware of. Your comments would be appreciated.]
There he sits…a one-quarter turn on my left…at the dining table sipping our first cup of morning coffee with our wives. I have known this man for the better part of thirty years. Conscious and kind, generous and ‘fatherly’ in nature, Tim and his wife, Cathy, have been lasting and constant friends.
Our children, who were born three days apart. We lived one block from the other in Brooklyn Heights. Each of our full-time caretakers were friends and would spend their days together, the children sharing adventures, lunch, ‘boo-boos’ and birthdays. It is through them that we met and became friends. This was in 1989.
A discussion ensues. Three of us chatter away. Tim sits quietly appearing to listen…apparently listening…until, “What are you talking about? I missed it.” We keep our eyes straight ahead without any gestural reaction or verbal inflection. Nothing is out of place. Conversation continues. “Gerrymandering. How the Repub—-” Honestly, I let his wife’s response pass unattended rather observing my friend’s eyes’ disoriented gaze unable to prevent his mind’s wafting like puffballs of blown dandelions disperse and drift into air. I last saw Tim this time merely years ago. He was alert and present. Then, at age 72, he decided to wind down his exceedingly successful business as an investment counselor, accept a retirement program offered by his firm for which his portfolio was taken over by a group of young Turks that Tim trained and who would pay Tim for his clients over a four year period. He would be, thankfully, financially secure.
David * Adele * Cathy * Tim in Norway Summer, 2019
Over the course of their two careers and forty years in business, Tim and Cathy would purchase a house in a community famed for its educational system, bring up three children, send them off to college which demanded they refinance their house three times, and finally pay off their mortgage setting them up for retirement. This year, within four months, both their middle and youngest children are getting married. Despite the expense, they could not be happier or more proud. Still, in stinging contrast to the whiteness of their daughter’s wedding gown, there exists a silent pall of unspoken darkness. Tim’s light is fading.
“I am seeking, I am not lost. I am forgetful, I am not gone.” – Koenig Coste
Tim and I went to pick up the Sunday New York Times last Sunday. As he was coming down the stairs earlier, I asked if he wanted to drive with me to get the paper. He turned around and went upstairs to change from his pajama bottoms to jeans. When we got into the car he asked where we were going. I assumed he meant where are we going to get the paper. So, I answered there is a gas station just beyond town that sells the paper. When we arrived, I pulled in to a spot and Tim asked, “Are you getting gas?”. “No. I’m getting the newspaper here”. “Oh”.
TIM
Yesterday, the topic of the daughter’s impending wedding date came up, the fitting of the bridal gown, the last minute arrangements, etc. Tim and I decided to watch John Wick 3, a perfect distraction for the father of the bride who did not need to be reminded of what the whole affair was costing. Of course, for anyone who has watched the John Wick series, it is not what you might call compelling cinema. And, not feeling as we would miss much of anything, our watching was interrupted by regular viewer commentary. Tim again mentioned the wedding asking, “It’s on the 19th? Right?” I called into the kitchen, “Cathy, the wedding is on what day?” She said the 8th of November, which I conveyed to Tim. “So”, said Tim, “September is almost over. A little more than a month.”
Over the years of our relationship, Tim, always solid, sturdy, serious and strong, displayed little emotion. He didn’t speak much about himself even as he spoke endlessly about the stock market. At first, his silence was merely consistent with who I knew him to be. But, this was different. He is now slow to ascribe, identify, name, relate, and link. For the moment, I watch as he applies enormous effort to these tasks taken for granted: remembering he just ate three squares of chocolate; remembering the story behind the TV series episode just completed. I can see his self-awareness and personal struggle, like placing a foot in an intractable and inevitable pool of quicksand, slowly watching more and more of your presence sink into a fated oblivion from which you cannot escape. In the absence of encouragement, one day on the deck Tim offered the following, “I am more quiet these days. If I speak people may think I’m crazy.” But, he won’t discuss his condition. It was a surprising, blanketed comment about a specific truth not mentioned.
I have not known what to feel. That’s not to say I am without feelings. Quite the contrary. I have an abundance of feelings - deep hurt, sadness, frustration, anger, fear. Fear. The fear is not for myself, per se. It is that generalized fear that such a thing could happen to anyone…without warning. Such a thing. A thing, to me, worse than physical disease or a plethora of severe medical conditions. The fear of not ‘being’ yourself. Living a life of nihilistic extinction.
Tim now follows Cathy around pretty much all of the time. I sense he is feeling insecure in her absence. She was reading on the balcony, so Tim decided he would step out onto the balcony and join her. The heavy glass sliding door was open and the sliding screened door shut. He stood at the precipice unable to figure out the circumstance he faced and necessary order of events to get outside. My heart cried. Who are we but for our consciousness and self-awareness? Who are we but for our choices and decisions? What is time to the non-functioning experience? How will he love in the future? How will he know love?
I want to be there for Tim as best I can. I have spent time researching websites that inform family and friends as to how to act and behave with dementia patients. Their advice, as stated in the Koenig Coste quote, is to answer the questions that are asked with patience and love. Cathy has acted exemplary, tossing answers to a single question asked three times consecutively like a batter in a batting cage. Smack, swack, whack, bam, boom. Nothing to it. But, how long can that last? Hurt chips away at strength. The weight bares down. One life can consume another. They will both need support.
“Think of the life you have lived until now as over and, as a dead man, see what’s left as a bonus and live it according to Nature. Love the hand that fate deals you and play it as your own, for what could be more fitting?” – Marcus Aurelius
Is life fair? Is life just? I no longer question ‘why’ random things happen? That would be a contradiction in terms. Random is a defining term for Life. An IED explodes between the feet of two war buddies. One survives and wonders, “Why him and not me”? The mother of a baby discovers her child has an incurable disease - “Why my baby and not me?” Why? Random happens all around us all the time. It has to be dealt with. We cannot simply ignore or fail to acknowledge the existence of Life, [with a capital ‘L’] and all that is encompassed. Or, as is often the case, we cannot attribute ‘bad’ events as occurring to others…until they happen to us. That will deprive us the opportunity to prepare ourselves. Marcus Aurelius, an early Stoic, remarks, “Let us prepare our minds as if we’d come to the very end of life.” Today I will follow the dictum of the Sage, and let the mountain air enter and fill my lungs with freshness and gratitude. I will allow myself to feel the spectrum of emotions inspired by this journey. I will offer up my help to my friends when they are ready to receive it. I will stand by and be counted. But, I will not ask myself WHY? There is no legitimate answer to that question.