A few weeks ago, I wrote about my neighbors and dear friends
moving away and how painful that was going to be for them and me. Twenty-seven
years of memories to sort through for both of us but what seemed to me to be
the most egregious is--- this was because it had to be-- not because someone
needed a change of scenery or was taking a new job. They used to say, “when
life handed you lemons you made lemonade” but there comes a time and a place
when you have all of the lemons you can tolerate-- and there is really nothing
you can do with them-- but eat them.
Their place sold quickly and last Saturday was moving day.
The yard was full of trucks pulling trailers and for a while it was family
members totting out boxes and furniture and everyone was busy but then in the
late afternoon, I saw him standing in the yard looking wistfully over the lake.
I used to see him crying on the end of his dock on Labor Day because the end of
summer was so painful for him. I could only imagine what was going through his
mind now. An old man, alone with his thoughts.
All through our married lives we seem to bounce from place
to place. It’s an apartment at first, to a starter home, to something much
better. Maybe two homes or a motor home or a condo, someplace warm in the
winter. But all of the time, the clock is ticking and the time will come when
all of this just seems too much to take care of and worry about. Money can
become a problem, as does your health. Then that sad decision comes that its time
and that last move looms on the horizon. All of your life you were moving on up
and had your sights set on even bigger things then you now have but suddenly
you realize you’re at the top of the hill, the end of the road and you don’t
want to think about what lies ahead, even though you know.
I remember when my wife was diagnosed with cancer and we
knew from the start there was no cure but we hoped and prayed that tomorrow
would be no worse then today. That the chemo was working and we weren’t going
to get too hung up on what we knew was coming but live in the day-- in the
moment. Then one day she went for her treatment and they took us to another
room that was more like an office and the doctor wasn’t making eye contact with
us anymore. He explained it was the end of the treatments, the end of the road.
As a terminal cancer patient you have to sometimes feel like a condemned
prisoner on death row who X’s out the days on a crude calendar drawn on the
wall, until he takes that last lonely walk.
We all have our dreams and aspirations and yes even our end
of life dreams about how we would like to tie it all together and go out in a
blaze of glory but you suddenly realize that you have so little control over
that. I can only imagine what it felt like for my neighbor to drive down that
driveway, one last time and know that what is up there in his rearview mirror,
is what was once in his windshield, twenty seven years ago. I walk around my
place and every corner, every nook and cranny, harbors some memory of a time or
event that took place there. True you do take the memories with you but it’s
not the same. It’s not the same without the cries of the loons, the waves
lapping the shoreline, the painted sunsets over the still waters and even when
you close your eyes, the smell of the lake. A.A.Milne of Winnie the Poo fame said, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.”
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