aging and breakdown

"wrecked on schedule"

Old Tjikko: The 9,500 year old Norway Spruce in Sweden. The visible tree is part of an older root system that dates back millennia. The trunk of the tree may die and regrow multiple times because the tree's root system remains intact and in turn sprouts another trunk. The pressure of heavy snow during winter pushes the tree's low-lying branches to ground level, where they take root and survive to grow again the next year.

Aging and bodily breakdown. When do they begin? Or is it always happening and the reality suddenly catches us to us.

In this age of wellness striving, it’s hard to not feel a failure when our body has other plans for us. Even though it’s the way nature seems to have built us.

I’m all one for healthy living and adjusting to what this means as I grow older. And I’ll grant that there’s a new field of biology medicine that will offer opportunities to live longer.

That’s not what I’m talking about here. Because along with the potential (and peril) of these trends, we will all undergo a necessary wrestling with the trajectory our lives are on. Few will be able to avoid the painful reckoning, and a necessary grieving, for the life that we thought was ours to keep living indefinitely in the same way.

I’m at the beginning of this journey. My husband has fallen into it in a bigger way, as different maladies and mishaps have consumed his energy the past few years. Then this past week a crisis—a hard-to-shake cold suddenly turns into pneumonia, the nasty kind. A long night of struggling with unexplained pain and heart pressure meant an early morning ambulance trip to the hospital.

Fortunately, the care was quick and good. Recovery, however, hasn’t been easy. All this has meant that Michael thinks about endings more than beginnings. The night of greatest distress and uncertainty, he said, “I’d like to stay on earth a little longer, but I might not be.” Looking into my eyes, he utters the words that pierce the heart, “I’m sorry for not being a better person for you. I love you.”

I tell you, that’s when the reality of limits and endings comes tumbling in. The defenses I had created to deal with the practicalities of the situation, and to avoid fear, meant that I was not allowing my own feelings much room. That utterance did it though, releasing my heart through tears, so that for a few minutes I shed the role of nursing caregiver, and became the wife who was looking at possible “last words.”

Michael has made sure that I know where the file is that contains his will, last wishes, even music requests for his funeral. In those dire moments, he also said, “I’ve no big deathbed confessions to make, no dark secrets to air. What you see is what you get.”

Wow. When I think of that now, I am amazed. How many of us can say that?

Michael’s condition has improved this week, though not as much as he’d like. Sporadically doing odd things about the house, petting our dog, contemplating, admiring the pines, spruces and flowers, resting. He also does his share of grumbling and complaining—especially when on the computer, or trying to do more than his energy can manage. This is a time of pause and pondering that will come unbidden to us all. How well will we meet it?

Can we soften into this time, whether it’s a temporary phase or a long one? Along with our necessary wrestling and grieving, can we grant some hospitality to this guest that appears to be breaking down our door? I’m seeing that even the smallest measure of allowing and accepting any and all my feelings towards such a guest, changes things. Feeling and allowing my constriction, my hunched shoulders, my shallow breathing— a sigh is then released, sometimes tears, and my world looks different again. A world where love and mercy has a chance to break through.

Richard Rudd of the Gene Keys speaks of how small gestures and movements like these transforms a breakdown into a breakthrough. Allow, Accept Embrace is the map home.

I’m the caregiver this time, but I’ve been on the other side of the equation, too. Michael has had his share of being the caregiver for me during my long illness. It’s definitely a different role—and as an oncology psychiatrist said to us many years ago, “When one person in a couple has a serious illness, both essentially have it.”

These days, Michael is fond of repeating a Stephen Jenkinson phrase about the surprises that aging has in store for us: “wrecked on schedule.” Like Old Tjikka, the Noraway Spruce, pictured above, heavy snow in the winter of our life will push us down into the earth. Wisdom is ultimately knowing that rebirth, in one form or another, comes next “Die before you die, so you can truly live,” is the old adage. Michael is willingly undergoing this—is it all graceful? No.

And will he likely recover, from this recent illness and other health “issues?” Probably.

So, I, too, must learn to soften to the uncertainties, changes and demands that come with this new guest at our door. Gracefully? Not so much.

But ahh, I’m allowing this, too.

I know some of you reading this are in a spousal/parental/caregiver role much more profound than I am. Blessings to you. If you would care to comment I’d appreciate it. Learning from one another is part of the way.

Michael adding a few commas and comments to this post!

Book Endorsement: Nancy walks us through the deeply sacred journey of her mother’s death, capturing the essence of home funerals while inspiring the reader to imagine caring for the dead in a slow and loving way. Her stories are artfully woven together while poignantly painting a picture of the incredible healing and feeling of completeness when grace prevails. I highly recommend this book for those both unfamiliar and experienced with death; it is a loving guide to assist all who want to connect with the rituals that can be created at this portal.—Jerrigrace Lyons, founder of Final Passages: Institute of Conscious Dying, Home Funeral, and Green Burial Education and author of Creating Home Funerals

Order The Call to the Far Shore: Carrying Our Loved Ones through Dying, Death, and Beyond through your local bookstore, Amazon, and most major booksellers.

https://www.amazon.ca/Call-Far-Shore-Carrying-through/dp/B0D9TMVNL9

The Call to the Far Shore: Carrying Our Loved Ones Through Dying, Death, and Beyond. Amazon.com

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