Personal Journal

Living for Two

We’ve had enough discussions, Jean and I, for me to know that she recognizes the basic inevitability of death. That sucks to say. I hadn’t realized it would make me so sad to write it until now. And it makes me horribly sad. I was planning on writing other things. But the light just faded from my world.





I don’t know how people are dealing with hope and hopelessness. I went upstairs the other night, thinking Jean was right behind me, and 15 minutes later I went down to check on her. She was just sitting on the couch, sitting up, which is rare. And thinking. I had to pry into her – she still resists talking most of the time. We had another one of those “this sucks, it’s not fair, it’s too fast” conversations.

I decided to tell her something that I had kept in the confines of my skull. I told her that I understood how this can’t possibly make any sense to her from her point of view. There can be no lesson to take with you when your fate is to die in your 30s. But I told her that … how do I put this… I have to make something sensible out of it.

I have this instinctual feeling that I have to take a few of the purposes of her life, and make them my own, so that the spark that gave her life meaning never fades from the world. I told her that I wanted her to think of what I could do in her memory to keep her life’s purpose alive. I knew she would say that she wanted me to keep taking care of feral cats. I thought she might say that she wanted me to get active politically. But I was surprised by one of the things she said. She said “Promise me that you will keep being the good man that you are.”

I’ve made an effort of late to get people to quit talking about me in all of this, and that’s still critical to me. I’m tired of people telling me that I do this caregiver job well. I do the best I can, and I know where my mistakes and failings are in it. But it’s not about me. If anything, I am just being who I am, and I deserve no credit for that. But this is my journal, and I have to confess that at that moment when she said that, I felt proud of who I am. I’ve let that fade now, of course. There’s hard work to do ahead.

I’ve always wanted to be a good man, and I have to reflect on this event as a sort of confirmation that for the most part, I have succeeded.

We are doing “death paperwork” now. Preparing bank accounts, property stuff, living wills tuff. Would you be surprised to hear that it is a relief? It is. Let’s get this stuff out of the way now, so that we can get on with living what time there is left without worrying about clouds over our heads.

“One day at a time” is a cancer mantra. On one side of the coin, you say it to contain your frustration that your treatment and improvement can’t be instantaneous. We’re past that side now. We’re now on the side of the coin where we say it to avoid fearing the inevitable.

There’s still time for a miracle. There’s still some room for hope. I don’t think it’s possible for the human psyche to exist in hopelessness anyhow. I think when that goes, Jean will go. I was thinking about when that might be. I know Jean will use her force of will to ensure she lives beyond the 1-year time frame given to her by that asshole doctor Podada. That puts us into early February. I think she might go soon after that, as I’ve had other loved ones go in February. My grandmother died on Valentine’s Day, and I think somehow that Jean may go then as well.


It is never too late to be what you might have been. -- George Eliot
Courage to start and willingness to keep everlasting at it are the requisites for success. -- Alonzo Newton Benn