"If all men are brothers
then why are the winds and waves
so restless?"
Hirohito
Copyright © 2021
by Ralph F. Couey
Since I retired in 2017, our lives have moved from one upheaval to another. We actually enjoyed the constant changes for awhile. We sold our home in Virginia and lived for brief periods in Aurora, Colorado, Casa Grande, Arizona, and San Dimas, California before returning to Aurora for awhile. All these moves were connected to Cheryl's work as a travel, or contract nurse. After being anchored to one place for so long, the moves were in a way exhilarating. There was always a new adventure on the horizon, a new place to get to know, each with it's own particular, even peculiar charms.
Then in 2018, Cheryl got an assignment at Tripler Army Medical Center in Honolulu. She was ecstatic, for she was finally going home.
Before leaving Colorado for the last time, we made the tough decision to sell or donate nearly all of our possessions, including some beautiful furniture we had hauled around through our many moves since the late 1970's. It was hard, but at the same time liberating. We were no longer chained to 11,000 pounds of "stuff." What used to fill a 2,400 square foot house has been pared down to a single storage unit, containing mostly winter clothes, Blu-Rays, and some legal documents. At some point when travel becomes less cumbersome, we intend to go back and clear out that last space, especially since after my surgery, none of those clothes fit me any longer.
Upon our move to Hawai'i, we undertook the primary care for Cheryl's aging mother. As the months have rolled past, that care has gotten more challenging. She is 94, and her memory and cognitive abilities have continued to decline. The family has given us a lot of help, and that has made things less stressful. But as time has passed, a kind of routine has finally established itself, a kind of existential train that carries us through the week.
Monday, we have a private caregiver come in for eight hours. She has been wonderful, and cares for Mom like she was her own. This enables me to exercise and run errands before leaving for work in the mid-afternoon. Tuesday, Irene takes Mom for the day, this despite the daunting task of caring for her husband who had been ill and had to begin dialysis. For me, this is laundry and house cleaning day, one of my two days off each week. If I get everything done, then there might be a couple of hours for me to retreat to Hale'iwa beach where I sit, empty my brain, and just listen to the waves. I get home in time to cook dinner for us. Wednesday is my other day off, and usually Cheryl's as well. In the morning, we take Mom to adult day care, after which we either play pickleball or ground golf in the morning, and run errands in the afternoon.
Thursday is my Monday, work-wise, and I get up early to take Mom to day care. I walk around Ewa, preferable because unlike Pearl City, Ewa is flat with lots of shade. After logging my four or five miles, I return home, clean up and hopefully catch a nap before going to work. Friday is a repeat of Thursday. Saturday, Cheryl spends the day with Mom, and after doing my walk and puttering around the house, its back to work. Sunday, Merle picks Mom up for the day and we go to church. After lunch, I get ready and go back to work. Cheryl meets some friends in Kaneohe for pickleball, getting home in time to be there when Mom returns.
And that's pretty much our week. Some things have changed, after having two slow-motion falls in the bathtub, Cheryl and her two sisters now bathe Mom, despite her strenuous objections. This had to be done, not just because of the fall hazard, but repeated infections made it apparent that she was not able to clean herself. We have to watch her carefully in the evenings because she gets restless and begins to wander around the house, which sometimes results in falls. Caring for an aging parent means there is no status quo, there are always changes, and always negative. Even more distressing is the much more frequent comments that she wants to die. None of us want that, or are even remotely ready for that. But lurking out there is the sad knowledge that any day could be the last day.
For me, my job is going very well, even with the normal kind of bureaucratic imbecilities attendant to government work. I have become much more confident in my ability to respond to most of the possible emergencies that could, and often do, spring up out of the clear blue. I like the people I work with, and the culture is both personable and collegial. I have a certain amount of fun, and that's always good.
Our future? That, too, has changed. The original plan was to stay here until Mom didn't need us, and then return to the Mainland. But that was pre-COVID. Now, it appears that the safest place is right here. After a careful accounting of our assets, it may be possible for us to buy Mom's house, and stay here. Time will tell whether we can bring this ambitious plan to fruition. In the meantime, we have started to make improvements. Two weeks ago, we had the windows in the front part of the house replaced, and hung an air conditioner in one of the front windows. Replacing those old jalousies solved a lot of problems, including reducing the amount of passive heating from the sun. The next step is to do the same in the patio. That way, with cool air coming from the front, and more cool air coming from the back, the house will finally be comfortable for those hot summer days. There are other projects, like upgrading the electrical to something more appropriate to the requirements of 21st century technology. Sometime down the road, we'd like to add another bathroom, but that's a really expensive undertaking.
And I've changed, in ways both obvious and subtle. My body has acclimated to the tropical environment, which means that when the temperature gets south of 70, I start reaching for my hoodie. I've traded socks and tennis shoes for daily wear to flip-flops, although tanning that area of my ankles and feet that have been covered up for so long is going slowly. I know I look goofy with tanned face, arms, and legs and then that stark Irish white at the bottom, but time will fix that. I'm far more casual in my clothes. The only time I where long pants is on Sunday for church and my jeans for work, since we can't work in shorts. The rest of the time, I wander about in running shorts and sleeveless t-shirts. And still, I'm better dressed than most. My attitude has changed as well. I used to care passionately about things. But now, I realize that the things that used to occupy my mind aren't as vital as they seemed to be at the time. Some of that has to do with living on an island thousands of miles away from things. But also I think I've reached the point in life where I know the limits of my reach, and am content with that.
We miss our family terribly, especially the grandkids. Children can change dramatically over just a few months, and it may be a year or more before we can occupy the same physical space. That's the hardest part of all of this. We're missing the best years of their lives, and there's nothing we can do about it.
But I still have my sunsets, and my few precious hours listening to the waves. I have my wife who reminds me every day just how incredibly lucky I've been. I still have this blog through which my thoughts, hopes, and dreams are placed for your patient perusal. The joy of life is still there, albeit taking a good deal more searching.
I've found the peace available in the freedom of just letting go.
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