It might be an exaggeration to say the last three days are the saddest days of my life.
After all, no one died. No one has told me my services are no longer required and I won’t be getting a paycheck. No one I loved has told me they no longer love me.
But in a very real way, a part of my life that has mattered tremendously is coming to an end.
When I awakened Thursday morning after an extremely restless night’s sleep, I realized that in all probability, it had been the last night I had slept in the same bed with my wife of more than 32 years. Thursday and Friday our daughter Pauline and I moved Nicole into a studio apartment in the memory care center where she will receive 24-hour care for the rest of her life.
I just realized how ominous that sounds.
One of the most difficult things about it for me is that I have two conflicting feelings that are both extremely strong. First is the feeling that the most important relationship of my life will from now on be limited to visits a couple of hours a day and the rest of the time I will live alone in the house we have shared since late 1990. That’s extremely sad, especially knowing that in time she will no longer recognize me or even know who I am.
Which brings me to the other feeling. It’s one of relief that I no longer have to spend 24 hours a day worrying that whatever is going on in her mind will convince her she needs to escape from the house or get up early to attend important meetings she stopped attending 15 years ago.
It’s a feeling that after I visit with her, the rest of the day is mine to work or play or even nap.
I’m hopeful of getting out on the golf course again. I was playing very well in 2011, the first year we lived here, but it has been seven years now since I’ve played at all. Since I’m well past 70, I can move up to the shortest men’s tees. Of course I have two bad hips and a knee with torn ligaments.
Actually, I would trade any future golf — hell, any future use of my legs — if I could have my wife and her beautiful mind back. I have loved other women in my life and even married one, but it isn’t insulting to any of them to say none of them measure up to Nicole.
The picture above is from 19 years ago and has always been one of my favorites. I won’t post recent ones because as young and alive as she looked at 56 and even later, she wouldn’t want pictures of her as she closes in on 75. Of course, physical beauty is only a small part of what makes my wife so special.
She had a brilliant career as one of the top scientists in the world in her field and she raised two children who are both exceptional adults. And she put up with me from 1992 all the way up to the present, making my life so much better than it would have been without her.
When I returned home this afternoon for my second evening and night in an empty house, I felt very sad. It reminded me of earlier times — in Colorado, Nevada and California — when I lived alone in my own apartment. There were many nights when I never spoke a single word all evening and the only sounds came from the TV.
Of course back then I could call friends and have long conversations with them if I so desired. Of course times cha nge over 35-40 years. One of my friends is dead, another can’t really talk on the phone b ecause he had throat cancer and the other one just sort of changed.
It used to be if I was bored I would go tpo the movies. But I’ve gone to theatres three times in the 14 years living in Georgia and not at all since 2018.
Hey, I’m 75 years old.
I don’t know if I’ll spend more than 2-3 hours a day visiting Nicole. It’s surprisingly stressful and will probably get more stressful as she declines.
But I will say one thing, as strange as it may sound.
They’re the best hours of my day.