Homebodies - To everything there is a season
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- Published on Sunday, July 5, 2015
By Rita Friesen
The better part of a year has passed since my best friend and partner of 40 years and one day died. It has been, in many ways, the worst part of a year. I have adapted and I am adapting. Sometimes I have to laugh at myself. I had been the sole occupant of the bed for months before I realized that by getting out of “Ed’s” side I was closer to the door. And didn’t have to stumble around the end of the bed when the dogs, or I, had to get up in the middle of the night!
It has become easier but still a tad unfamiliar. I can make coffee as strong as I desire, I am the only one drinking it. So, espresso, dark and warm and energising every morning it is! I don’t have to choose a neutral music station. Whereas Ed enjoyed classical, I could not say the same for country! Easy listening was common ground, and jazz was for when I was alone. I have lost track of baseball names and standings. I had become fairly fluent with that topic. An evening can easily be lost in half hour sitcoms, and no factual documentaries have lit my screen for quite some time! The sound of music, hummed, whistled and sung, is negligible. My singing is off key, my whistling shallow and my humming tuneless!
Summer has always been a time for evening drives and campfires. Both lack lustre. Never before have I got the fabric out in summer, but this year I am contentedly piecing quilt tops, in summer. I still shake my head over that. It is a tidier layout than a winter go, at day’s end, all quilt related items are carefully placed in a wash basket and set on the ironing board, clearing the table almost completely. I read later at night, not that my reading lamp ever bothered Ed, at least he maintained that it didn’t. The bed was always warm by the time I retired for the night. Now, winter and spring, I toss a wheat bag in the microwave to warm by frigid knees!
But it works.
I have joined the ranks of the widows. Countless have gone before and countless will follow. And I am certain that the widowers would have the same set of concerns. Perhaps gentlemen have to learn how to fend for themselves more than women do. We know how to cook and clean and do laundry and it is okay that I have someone else change the oil in the car, rotate the tires and perform general maintenance. Many seniors enlist help for tasks beyond one’s current abilities.
I offer grateful thanks for the gift of love and laughter extended to me by many. The shared meal, the phone call, the coffee invite all help me balance the real with the wishes. To everything there is a season. This too, shall pass.
