The Caregiver’s Tales: A Blog

Yesterday in the early evening, I was driving along listening to my music when Jimmy Lafave came on to sing, Rain Falling Down. A sweet, hard to describe, everything is beautiful feeling came over me, brought on by Jimmy’s voice, the time of day, and the melody. And I knew it was mine to feel because I’d felt it many times before with other songs and other things in other times and other places.

As I prepare to start the journey into my ninth decade, later this year, it will be interesting to see what I take with me. Because you always have to pack for any journey, but especially a personal one. Sometimes it’s things, sometimes it’s people, but the heaviest baggage is usually personal. For instance, after I left active duty in the Navy and decided to attend college in the late 60s, I made the choices to move off (to Florida) and try to be more outgoing. They worked. I got my feet on the ground and gained self-confidence.

One thing you realize about writing every day is just how boring everyday life can be. Not boring in a bad sense, just boring in its ordinariness. I was talking to a friend last night and got the normal what-did-you-do-today question, and I had to think for a moment about what I’d say because the highlight was driving into town for guitar strings and finding the store closed, then eating lunch, which consisted of a hamburger and fries.

I have a catalog of missed opportunities and minor failures. It sits waiting in my brain for those moments when I feel the need to ruminate or brood. Typically, this happens late at night, but I’ve been known to do it while taking a walk or simply sitting in the front room. Usually it involves regret, as in, why did I do that or not do that? It feels like it’s a good time to try and break that habit, because my long life is starting to come back and bite me.

More about aging. I think I’m going to approach this journey through my ninth decade as I would any of the moves we made as a child, or the changes I encountered as an adult. It’s an opportunity, a thing to be explored, embraced. Besides, I’ve never gone into any decade of my life thinking I knew what was waiting at the end. Why should this one be any different? Granted, the actuarial tables are against me, but why assume the mean?

I confess. I never thought much about my age. Never fretted over it. Never worried about what it meant when the calendar turned over a new page. I had a great party at fifty and another at 65, but life had other plans at 70 and 75. This year, however, is different. Assuming nothing happens between now and July, I’ll be 80. I think I’m going to lean into it.

Something dug up the front yard last night a little more aggressively that one might expect from an armadillo or a skunk. Has the trappings of hog work. Deep holes, lots of dirt thrown around. Unfortunately, I moved the camera monitoring that part of the yard to another location the other day. So, I was blind to the nighttime activity. I guess I’ll need to bring in another camera.

Interesting work editing your own material. Although, it might be more precise to say I’m repackaging it. Editing will come later. At the moment, I’m working on what goes and what stays. I don’t suppose it hurts to talk about it. It’s not like I’m giving away any plot lines. It’s merely an annotated compilation of my already published writing on the subject of grief.