My Brother Billy: RIP

23 Mar 2023 22 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , ,

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This is a short story with few characters.  It began ten or so years ago, but it did not end until February of this year, Anno Domini 2023.  It is but a brief waypoint in the relationship I had with my brother before he died on July 6 of 2022.  Before we begin my story, let me introduce the “cast” of characters.

William Paul Persico:  Younger brother to John Persico Jr.  Born on March 31, 1958.  Billy as everyone called him was almost twelve years younger than John.  Billy and John grew up in the same house, but their paths hardly crossed.  They shared little in common.  Billy dropped out of school in the 9th grade after staying back two years.  Billy’s main values: Drinking, smoking, drugs, and partying with his friends.  Later in life, Billy started to pay more attention to his son Jacob.  They shared some very special times together before Billy passed.

John Persico Jr.  Brother to Billy.  Born on September 17, 1946.  Joined the military in September of 1964 at the age of 18.  Hardly had any contact with Billy for many years.  Not much in common.  John’s main values: Education, hard work, and honesty.  Others might disagree with this rather positive outlook but hell, I am the one telling this story.

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ABOVE PICTURE – JEANINE ON THE LEFT AND KAREN ON THE RIGHT.  HIKING IN FEBUARY 

Jeanine Persico:  Billy’s older sister and John’s younger sister.  Born on August 30, 1951.  Spent thirty-five years working for Social Security.  Received early retirement.  After her mom and older sister Sheri died, she seemed to adopt Billy as a basket case that she needed to take care of.  Continually enabling him (In my mind at least) by giving him money and never expecting him to pay it back.  Jeanine’s main values:  Family, friendship, loyalty, compassion, and avoidance of conflict.  Jeanine is much like our mother.  A loving kind person who takes care of people.

Karen Y. Persico.  Wife of John Persico.  Born July 5th, 1944.  Karen had to listen for many years to my complaints about my brother’s perceived lack of positive attributes.  She was always kind to Billy when he called and once visited but shared my disapproval for his profligate lifestyle.  She never questioned or complained of any money we loaned to Billy.  Karen’s values: Family, frugality, hard work, education, and music.  She shows her love for others through her cooking, crafts, and music.

Linda Therrien:  Billy’s common law wife and companion for twenty or so years.  Born October 13, 1946.  Billy lived with Linda in a mostly loving relationship.  Two lonely outcast souls that seemed to find each other and as Judge Judy once said, “There is a cover for every pot.”  Linda’s values:  Unknown.  It will not really matter since Linda plays a very small role in this story.  Linda is a walk-on and walk right off in this story.

The story that follows has some roots in what happened after my mother Dorothy died.  She passed away on Feb 2, 1994, at the age of 67.  After Billy’s divorce, he had continued to live with our mom.  My sister Sheri who died on December 22, 2002, along with my sister Jeanine and I agreed to let Billy have the house if he paid the mortgage, taxes and maintained it in a reasonably good state.  It did not take long before we had to pay all of the former out of our own pockets as Billy remained unemployed and more interested in partying with his friends.  Billy was turning the place into a crack house for his druggie friends.  Sheri, Jeanine, and I met to discuss the situation.  We agreed to sell the house and split the proceeds four ways.

The practically non-existent relationship that I had with my brother went even further south after we sold the house.  He once said that my sisters and I got all the brains, and it was not fair.  He felt that he should have kept the house and that we could keep paying his bills.  I was living in another state and wanted nothing to do with him.  About the only time for the next ten or so years that I heard from him was around Christmas time.  I guessed he was angry about the house but I did not care.  The less that I heard from him, the happier I was.

Jeanine would fill me in on Billy’s various shenanigans which were always good for a laugh.  It seemed that he had little desire to do anything with his life except drink, drugs, and smoke.  The only time that I did hear from him was to borrow some money.  Jeanine routinely gave him money.  I was a more difficult touch as I did not feel any guilt over his lifestyle.  I did occasionally break down and give him some funds when I could afford it and did not expect to be paid back.  I had nothing to worry about on that score.

More years went by and sometime around the beginning of 2008, Billy contacted me and asked for a loan of $300 dollars.  It surprised me that he was so adamant about it being a loan.  He did not expect it to be a gift.  He assured me that he would pay me back in full before Christmas of that year.  I gave him the loan and reassured him that I did expect it to be paid back.  You can guess the outcome.

Christmas of 2008 came and went, and I did not hear from Billy.  I was angry and fed up.  I called him after the holidays were over to find out where my money was.   I received the excuse that he just did not have it and he was sorry.  I lost my temper and cursed him up and down.  But I was not through with him.  I went to the computer and wrote the meanest, cruelest letter that I have ever written.  I told him that if he had been run over and was dying in the streets and all it took was one cent to save his life, I would not give it.  I read the letter to my sister Jeanine.  Sheri my younger sister by one year had died of cancer six years before.  Jeanine did not say much at the time.  I put the letter in an envelope and mailed it to Billy and Linda.  At the time, I had no regrets.  I thought of it as a form of tough love or shock therapy.  I thought it might make a difference.  Why did I not have a real brother instead of someone like him, I often wondered?

Well, communication between Billy and I grew less and less frequent.  Considering it had never been frequent, it was more like hardly ever.  I reasoned that Billy had received my letter and was now even more angry than before.  Five or more years went by.  Christmas cards and Christmas calls did not happen between us anymore.  Then gradually, a call every six months or so would happen.  Karen and I started to send and receive Christmas cards to and from Billy and Linda.  I guessed that he had put my mean letter behind him and was attempting to move on.  I wanted to forget the letter and often thought of apologizing for it but just could not bring myself to do it.

Billy died at the age of 64 on July 6, 2022.  He had suffered from many illnesses primarily but perhaps not entirely due to his lifestyle.  According to Linda, he went into their bedroom to lay down and take a nap.  She went in later to talk to him and found him dead.

The story really begins here.  The stuff above is simply prelude. 

Jeanine:  Calls me on phone from RI to Wisconsin.  “John, Billy died yesterday.”

John: “How did it happen?”

Jeanine: “Just passed away.  They are calling it a heart attack and will not do an autopsy.”

Jeanine is crying and very distraught.  I reasoned it best not to go into any details at this time in terms of funeral or whatever.  Knowing Billy and Linda had no money, it would fall on Jeanine and I to take care of any burial expenses.  Some days go by, and I call Jeanine.

John: “What do you want to do about the funeral?” 

Jeanine: “I would like to have a regular church funeral and burial for him.”

John: “I am sorry that he passed but I am not willing to go for a big elaborate funeral and burial.  I will split a cremation and simple burial with you but that is as far as I will go.  I am not going to pretend that I am all teary eyed about his passing.” 

Jeanine: “I will get back to you on this.”

A few days later, and Jeanine calls me back.  Without talking to me she has made funeral arrangements and set a date for the service.

John: “Jeanine, I told you that I am not willing to spend this kind of money on such an elaborate funeral.  This is your show and your expense.  I am not planning to come out for the funeral.  Billy was less a brother to me and more just someone I knew in passing.  I am not going to be a hypocrite now and pretend to be all mournful.” 

I had discussed my response to Jeanine with several friends and asked each what they would do.  Most agreed with me and said they would set a limit on how much they would spend.  They all implied that Jeanine felt guilty and was making reparations by this funeral.  I did not feel guilty except for one thing.  The mean nasty letter that I had sent to Billy thirteen years ago.

I could tell that Jeanine was somewhat miffed by my response.  A certain distance seemed to come between us.  For my part, I thought she went overboard.  As things worked out, she did not have enough money to cover the gravestone that she wanted to put on Billy’s plot.  I sent her a thousand dollars to cover a portion of the expense.  It seemed to mend our relationship and in February of this year, 2023, Jeanine came out to Arizona to visit for a week.  The story continues from there.

Jeanine and Karen went to the health club the second day of her visit to work out together.  Upon their return, we have the following discussion.

Karen: “Jeanine wants to tell you something, but is afraid that you will be very angry.”

John: “Ok, I promise no matter what, I will not be angry.”

Jeanine: “Do you remember that letter that you sent to Billy many years ago?”

John: “Of course, I remember it.  I still regret that I never called him up to apologize for it.”

Jeanine: “Well, Billy never got it.”

John: “What do you mean he never got it?”

Jeanine: “You told me about the letter and I went over to Billy’s apartment each day to intercept the letter.  One day when Billy was not home, I went over and asked Linda if she had received a letter from you.  She said that it had just come that morning.  Billy had not seen it.  I asked her for the letter and told her I needed it and not to tell Billy about it.  Linda simply gave me the letter and I destroyed it.”

John: “Are you kidding me?  You were tampering with US Mail.  This is a serious offense, Jeanine.  For thirteen years, I fretted over sending that letter and whether I was going to apologize for writing it.”

Karen: “You promised not to be angry.”

John: “I am not angry.  I don’t know what to feel: relief, disappointment, gratitude, regrets.  It is just hard to believe this.  You waited thirteen years to tell me.  Well, it is all just water over the dam now.  I will never know what would or would not have made a difference in my relationship with Billy.”   

The End – Almost

The last few years of Billy’s life, he seemed to change.  I was noticing postings of his on Facebook and he seemed happier and more thoughtful.  He was taking time with his son Jacob and was engaged in other activities besides drinking and smoking.  Jeanine told me that he had quit drugs, drinking, and smoking and was trying to clean up his life.  I was skeptical and did not believe what I was hearing.  Jeanine often had rose colored glasses when it came to Billy.  With the advantage of hindsight, I believe he really was making an effort to live a real life.  I wonder if I could have been a better brother to him or how I could have made a more significant contribution to his life.  I wonder whether or not Billy’s not receiving the letter was a good or bad thing.  Mostly, I am glad that he did not.

“None of you believes until he wishes for his brother what he wishes for himself.”  ― Prophet Muhammad  

  

Que Sera, Sera

18 Apr 2021 8 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

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I think that I am a coward.  I don’t want to grow old.  They say that growing old is not for the faint of heart.  Every day, I understand that aphorism more and more.  In the last thirty days, four friends have passed away.  Mickey, Glen, Bill, and Dick.  I could write a blog about each of them.  They were all just nearing 80 years of age.  Not one of them died of Covid.  Had you known any of them, you would have been truly fortunate.  Perhaps, one of my greatest blessings in life has been to have people like this for friends.  People who lived life to the fullest and cared about other people.  Men who went out of their way to help not just family but strangers.

Two weeks ago, we found out that Karen’s oldest daughter Julie had five brain tumors.  For the past year or so, she had been acting very strange.  She had frequent bouts of forgetfulness along with severe headaches and neck pain.  Doctors had been treating her for an enzyme imbalance for several months, but she kept getting worse.  Her husband thought it might be the onset of early dementia.

Finally, someone decided to do an MRI for her.  At first, it looked like one large brain tumor but a neurosurgeon looking more closely at the scan found four other tumors.  Julie had been diagnosed with leukemia when she was six years old and for ten years had undergone frequent trips to the hospital for chemo and radiation treatment.  They believed that the tumors were related to the radiation treatments.

Julie is now fifty-three years old.  She went in for surgery on Tuesday of this past week.  She was in surgery for nearly seven hours.  They chose to remove the largest tumor but indicated that they would need to go in for another one at a later date.  They were not able to remove the entire tumor since it was awfully close to the optic nerve and they were afraid of damaging it and causing blindness.  Ironically, they want to use radiation therapy to try and remove the rest of the tumor.

Karen flew out Friday night thinking that she could try and help Julie when she returned from the hospital to her home.  Only one person could be in the hospital each day with Julie and her husband was the obvious choice.  Karen worried all week as complications arose each day and Julie did not seem any closer to coming home.  As I write this, it is now five days past surgery and Julie is still in the hospital.  She has been in and out of intensive care since the surgery.  Karen and Rob (Julie’s husband) have agreed to alternate days spent with Julie at the hospital.  So Karen is in Minnesota now and I am watching the home front here in Arizona.

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I am growing old, but I am growing more tired of seeing people I care about either get sick or dying.  I went to a concert last night with two friends Evelia and Angie.  Karen originally was going to go but being with her daughter was the greater priority.  The concert was put on by the True Concord Singers and Orchestra in Tucson.  It was held outside on a patio at what appeared to be an old mansion that had become a private men’s club.  It was called the Mountain Oyster Club.  Since it was members only, they would not let us dine there.  I had originally thought that after the concert we could dine at this exclusive club but that was not to be.  We ended up going to a resort called the El Conquistador.  My two companions are both Latina and I wondered what they thought about dining at a place called El Conquistador.

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The concert was called “The Trailblazers” and consisted of songs arranged by women composers and based on the works of noted women writers and artists.  Some of the composers included Judith Weir, Hildegard von Bingen, Emma Lou Diemer, Ysaye Barnwell and Alice Parker.  The writers and poets included Emily Dickinson, Maya Angelou, and Edith Franklin Wyatt.

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The fifteen songs performed were arranged along a series of themes.  One set of the songs was called “Remembering Those We’ve Lost.”  Thinking back to my lost friends while these songs were performed brought tears to my eyes.  Reflecting on what it might mean to me if Karen should pass away before I do, I could not bear the thought.  Coward that I am, I am hoping to pass from this world without too many more losses of those I love.  Here are a few of the lyrics from the songs in the concert.  It is of course quite different and much more moving hearing these sung but the lyrics themselves are quite compelling.

From: “My Companion” by Edith Franklin Wyatt (1873-1958)

Let the roadside fade:

Morning on the mountain top,

Hours along the valley,

Days of walking on and on,

Pulse away in silence,

Let the world all fade,

Break and pass away,

Yet, will this remain,

Deep beyond all singing,

Beautiful past singing.

We are here together,

You and I together,

Wonderful past singing.

From: “Wanting Memories” by Ysaye Barnwell (1946- Present)

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
To see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.
I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
To see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.

You used to rock me in the cradle of your arms,
You said you’d hold me till the pains of life were gone.
You said you’d comfort me in times like these and now I need you,
Now I need you, and you are gone.

I am sitting here wanting memories to teach me,
To see the beauty in the world through my own eyes.
Since you’ve gone and left me, there’s been so little beauty,
But I know I saw it clearly through your eyes.

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I finished a run this morning in the mountains.  Saw a large coyote on the trail and thought at first it was a deer.  You are not likely to see a deer in the desert, but the coyote was large and brown and from a distance it did look like a small deer.  As I ran, I could not help but thinking of the song by Doris Day “Que Sera, Sera.”  The lyrics that go “Whatever will be, will be.  The futures not ours to see, Que Sera, Sera.”

We scheme, we plan, we strategize, we organize, we bribe, we cajole, we blackmail so that we can control the future.  We pray to whatever god or gods we believe in to keep our loved ones safe from harm or pain.  I am sure that every one of you reading this would rather suffer death or pain before seeing your family, friends or children suffering.  Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13

But as written in Ecclesiastes, it is all vanity.  Nothing but vanity.  I can’t stop a single person I know from dying or suffering pain.  The best that I can do is to be there for them during their suffering.  This is the role that my spouse has chosen to take with her oldest daughter.  It is a role that I would gladly have pass by me since coward that I am, I find it harder to watch my family, friends and others suffer then to deal with my own suffering.

I once loved the poem that admonished us to: “Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be.”  Now I wonder, what could Robert Browning have been thinking?  I am waiting for “the best that is yet to be.”  I must be missing something.  As each day goes by and as yet another friend leaves this earth, I am more and more wondering what I will have left when they are all gone, and I am the only one here.

Nothing I have ever worked for, saved for, bought, owned, or possess will have any meaning without the ability to share it with those I love.  I think about walking through the house where I am now sitting without my spouse or friends or family and it is by far a fate worse than death and dying.  I won’t rage into the night.  I am reflecting upon death as a comforting blanket than I can pull over my head and use to hide from the sorrows of the world.  I will not rush it, but as many have realized that have gone before me, at some point, we all know that our time has passed, and that we must leave this world.  As for what will come after, I can only say “Que Sera, Sera.”

I think you will enjoy this song:  https://youtu.be/xZbKHDPPrrc 

Que Sera, Sera

When I grew up and fell in love
I asked my sweetheart, what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows
Day after day
Here’s what my sweetheart said

Que sera, sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be

Joy and Sorrow

20 Apr 2020 7 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , ,

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Joy and sorrow are the Yin and Yang of existence.  One day we find joy and the next day we find sorrow. 

I found joy when my first daughter was born.  She was premature by a few weeks and so we could not take her home right away.  It was in 1967 and I was in the birthing room with my ex-wife Julie when Christina was born.  Both of us could not have been happier.  Over the years, I found joy in spending time with my daughter, taking her to the library, racing her on her bicycle, going to the boundary waters with her and taking her out trick or treating on Halloween.  I found joy watching her grow up.

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I found sorrow when my first wife and I separated in 1982 and I had to leave my daughter behind.  I found sorrow when my daughter Christina started college and decided she did not want to talk to me anymore.  I have found sorrow for the past 30 years or so at no longer seeing my daughter or even knowing where she lives.  I find sorrow that she never calls me or cares about having anything to do with me.

I find joy with my wife Karen when we sit and talk and eat together, now for nearly 40 years.  I find joy when Karen is happy, and we exercise or travel or go for walks together.  I find joy in helping her to stay healthy and knowing that she appreciates my efforts.  I find joy in growing old together and watching us both develop wrinkles together and claim similar aches and pains.  Our companionship is one of the greatest joys of my life.

I find sorrow when I think too long about what is too come.  I have seen too many elderly couples decline and it is often a sad sight.  I find sorrow when I think that in not too many years, Karen or I could be facing our final years by ourselves.  I find sorrow in thinking too much about what might be and how it might happen.

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I find joy in my writing.  I love the process of putting ideas into words.  I love getting comments on my blog and I love seeing the Google analytics regarding how many people are reading my rants and thoughts.  I love responding to people who leave comments.  I love the task of finding new ideas and themes to write about.  I love the community that I often find with other writers.  Something about the very word itself though unspoken is beautiful and magic.

I find sorrow in running out of new ideas and the occasional barren oasis that seems to sit in front of me as I struggle to find something to write about.  I find sorrow in feeling that I am not making any difference in the world with my writing.  I find sorrow when I compare my stats to others and think that some people get more readers in a day than I get in a month.  I know I should not compare myself, but I do anyway, and it always makes me sad.

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I found joy in getting to make amends with my father and mother before they died.  He died at 60 years of age and my mother died at 67.  I had hated my father and I was apathetic towards my mother.  I found joy in knowing my mother better and understanding the demons that she had to deal with.  I found joy in confronting my father and having him apologize to me for the misery that he caused my sisters and I when we were growing up.  I spoke at his funeral and found joy in the words I gave because I told truth.  My father had changed before he died, and I could see that in his friends and his new family.

I found sorrow when I was growing up with my family.  Hardly a day went by when I was not tormented or blamed for something by my father.  I found sorrow because my sisters and I were isolated and could not even find support in each other.  I found sorrow in my life as I felt so alone.  Later when I heard the song “Motherless Child”, I knew I was that motherless child.  A counselor years later told me it was because children expect their mothers to protect them.  I found sorrow in that it was not until my mother died that I realized how much misery she had in her own life while living with my father.  She had little time or energy to protect her children.  All of whom were abused by my father.

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I find joy in nature.  I run, ski, bike, swim canoe, camp and love being outside.  I find joy in the forests, in the lakes, in the ocean and in the mountains.  I find joy in flowers and watching the trees bloom and the leaves turn colors in the fall.  I feel joy in staring at a moonlit sky and looking for falling stars, constellations, and comets.  I find joy in sunshine and a cloudless day, but I also find joy on a rainy day with clouds billowing and promises of storms to come.

I feel sorrow when I see a tree hacked down or a lake defiled with oil and garbage.  I look at the sky and feel sad that we put up so much junk in the air that people are choking, and asthma has become common.  I find sorrow in the polluted oceans and in manicured lawns where water is wasted growing grass that has no reason for being there.  I feel sorrow that we put development over nature and destroy vast acres of beautiful land to put up parking lots.

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I receive joy from my exercising.  I love the feel of the mountain runs that I do each morning.  I love the stretch from yoga each evening.  My body feels so alive when it is moving.  I have done scuba diving, skydiving, bike racing, marathons and two triathlons.  I have never been a major competitor but the joy and fun of racing with others is indescribable.  The joy of being one big family even if only for a few hours.  Celebrating life and the ability we have as athletes.  No one regardless of how they do or how late they finish is ever ridiculed or laughed at.

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I receive sorrow and pain from exercising.  Some days it is hard to get up and go out.  Some days I feel sad wondering when my last run will be, and when I will no longer be able to handle the inevitable falls on the trails.  I have had sorrow from Morton’s neuroma, plantar fasciitis, back pains, hip pains and sesamoiditis.  Some of these problems have taken me years to overcome and some I have had to adapt to and live with.  I have sat for hours and picked cactus spines out of my legs and feet and arms.  There might not be a great deal of sorrow in this activity but there is a great deal of pain.  I think sadly of some of the longer runs I once did and some of the longer bicycle trips I once took and some of the week long canoe trips.  I know that I no longer have the energy for any such trips.  They are now sadly only memories that are slowly fading away.

My greatest joy in life has come from reading and learning.  I would rather die than not have a book to read or the chance to learn something new.  The joy I find in books is ineffable.  I want to learn the rest of my life and continue to find new things that will excite me.  I find joy in challenges to my ideas and beliefs.  I find joy in discovering that I was right, and I find joy in discovering that I was wrong.  Books have always been dearer to me than friendships.  Books bring me to places that I have never been.  Books help me to meet people that I can only dream of meeting.  Books do not desert me at 3 PM in the morning or chastise me for putting them down.  I find joy in history, science, mathematics, politics, psychology, spirituality, biographies, dramas and plays.  Books were my companions when I grew up and they were my family.  Books gave me unconditional love and were my steadfast friends.

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Books have brought me great sorrow.  I read the Little Match Girl a dozen times or more and each time I cried when I read this story.  Countless other stories and events have 83909b1f6d72b56470333621cbd1ebf2-the-little-match-girl-hans-christianbrought sorrow to my heart over the years.  Life does not always end happily.  Lives do not always find the justice and honor they merit.  I have felt sorry for the heroes and heroines who did not get the fates they deserved.  If only I could somehow right all the wrongs and set history on the paths it should have taken.  I find books tell me about my shortcomings and highlight areas where I need improvement.  It is always sorrowful to find that I am not as good as I would like to be.

Writing this has been cathartic.  For me, the writing itself is mixed with elements of joy and elements of sorrow.  So joyful to remember some things.  Remembering others so very sorrowful.  Some remind me of the joy still in my life.  Some sorrows make me want to live my life over.  But would it be any different?   Would it be any better?

What are the joys and sorrows in your life?

The Death of a Loved One.

04 Jun 2013 8 Comments

by Dr. John Persico Jr. in Uncategorized Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I have been asked to write a blog dealing with the death of a loved one. As I have grown older, I have suffered the loss of many a friend and relative. That is a price that we pay for living too long. There are other prices but perhaps none as steep as this one. A friend of mine has joked about my rather cavalier attitude towards death. She has summed up my comments as “Well, we are all going to die sometime.” I realize that my comment and attitude is not very consoling. However, for me it has been a convenient shortcut to simply acknowledging death and moving on. I have also noted that it seems hardly a week has gone by in my last twenty years that I have not witnessed the death of someone who has been a friend or relative. I doubt whether my life is much different than others unless I am a more astute observer of death or unless I am simply less caring.

I read the book “On Death and Dying” many years ago. The stages of grief that were identified as something we all go through upon the loss of a loved one are perhaps interesting and even useful but in some ways are very similar to my comment in that knowing the stages may not be very consoling. It is one thing to have an intellectual knowledge of death but an altogether different thing to have a personal emotional experience of death. For instance, despite all the deaths I have witnessed including my parents many friends and most of my relatives, I have never experienced the death of a life partner. I have gone through a divorce after 16 years but a divorce is not the same as death. True, it encompasses a degree of pain and loss and suffering but I cannot quite equate that with dealing with the loss of a close personal partner that one has lived with for most of their life. I think this would be a very different experience. Whether or not it was expected or unexpected would have some influence on how one dealt with it but maybe less than one would think. The aspect of “expectedness” is another intellectual concept which does not deal with the emotional relevance of death.

One day I was coming in to see Karen, my spouse who loves to sleep late. She is normally a very late sleeper and I am not usually too concerned when she sleeps in. However, it grew quite a bit later than usual and I decided to “peek” in to see how she was doing. When I looked at her prone body, she did not appear to be breathing. I immediately put my head to hers to see if I could detect any breath. I could not. My immediate reaction was to panic and shake her. I started crying. Suddenly she turned over and asked “What was wrong.” I was beyond relief. In that single moment of thinking she had passed away, I had experienced a degree of pain, sorrow, suffering and loss that I have never emotionally experienced before. Karen and I have been living together since 1989 and going together since 1983. I know that someday we will part and on an intellectual basis, I have accepted the inevitability of it. However, I suddenly found that I have not accepted the inevitability on a personal emotional basis and I wonder now if I ever will be able to.

I have to say I do not cry very much but I did that morning. I seldom cry at funerals but I cried at my Dad’s funeral, Sister Giovanni’s funeral and a few friends whose services touched me quite a bit. I have cried every time I have read or seen a production of the “Little Match Girl.” I have cried over the song “Sometimes I feel like a motherless child.” There is something that evokes sorrow in me that has more to do with loneliness than death. I have never seen any scales of loneliness related to the death of a loved one but I might assume that some correlation did exist. I have a 98 year old Aunt and God-Mother who is one of the most positive older people I know. She has lost two of her three sons and her husband of over 60 years. She continues to love life and other people. I asked her three years ago how she keeps such an attitude when she has seen almost all of her friends and loved ones pass away. Her reply was that she simply makes new friends. I am sure she loved her sons and husband as much as the next wife and mother but she simply chooses to move on. I contrast this with a comment that I heard about Thomas Jefferson who felt that at the 50th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence he was no longer a part of this life. The following is a quote by Jefferson on aging:

1815 February 5. (to John Vaughn). “…nothing is more incumbent on the old, than to know when they should get out of the way, and relinquish to younger successors the honors they can no longer earn, and the duties they can no longer perform.”

I see a vast difference between Jefferson’s attitude on aging and my Aunt’s attitude (at least as reflected in this quote.) My Aunt has not gotten out of the way. She still performs duties and tasks to help others. Indeed, that Christmas when I was talking to her, she was leaving after dinner to serve meals to the elderly at an “Old Folks Home.” I jokingly asked her if she was not “Old” and she pensively replied “Why I guess I am, I just never think about it.” She lives in the present and maybe that is the elusive secret of happiness or satisfaction. Osho says that for too many of us the only thing that exists is the Past or Future. We are either so busy trying to recapture memories of “better” times or else we create possible futures that we hope will bring us “better memories” than we had. I have noticed that all of the great religious leaders have stressed the importance of living in the present. Jesus said:

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?” Matthew 6:25-34

Buddha noted: “Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” I could give writings upon writings that speak of the need to live in the present but would this help you deal with the loss of a close personal partner? Good advice seldom deals with emotions. What then to say to anyone who suffers a loss of someone they have lived with, loved with and known for most of their lives? Perhaps nothing! Maybe this is just the time to be with this person. I would suspect that the feelings of loneliness would be almost overpowering. Is it any wonder so many people seem to die shortly after the death of a long term partner? What can you really say in the face of what this person is going through? Almost anything will sound cold or trite. Just feel for a second what this person must now be feeling.

Most of what we desire in life can summed up as: Fame, fortune or power. We strive to accomplish as much wealth, attention or power as we can. We think these three goals will bring us the happiness and security that we all seek. Deep down inside we are all insecure insignificant beings who feel that somehow money, fame or power will bring us the significance that assuages our sense of loneliness and inadequacy. But it never does. The nearest anything ever comes to doing this for us, short of an emotional and spiritual awakening is the love of a close personal partner.

I would not trade all the fans, all the Facebook friends, all the media glory, all the TV fame, all the money in the world or the highest office in the world for the love of my partner Karen who intimately knows me and cares about me. Karen brings me coffee, bandages my cuts, asks me how I am doing and what is wrong, cuddles with me for no reason, walks with me, consoles me when I am feeling inadequate, supports my stupidity, tolerates my quirks and even my sometimes meanness and poor dispositions. How many of the Rich and Famous have anyone in their lives like I do? Those of you who have or had had a long time personal partner or loved one know what I am talking about. How to lose such a partner and go on with life? I am sorry if I do not know the answer or the secret. Give up or trudge on? Can you make a difference for others? Can you help share the pain and help others deal with the pain you are now feeling? What can you leave the world after your partner leaves you?

If you have had a partner like I have, you have experienced the greatest gift in the world. That this gift will someday be taken away from you is inevitable. That it will cause you great pain and sorrow is perhaps also inevitable. In the end, we come back to the beginning. Life goes on. You were loved and you were needed. There are others who are not loved and who could benefit from your love. There are others who are not needed and who could benefit from being needed by you. The biggest gift we can ever give others is the gift of ourselves. When a gift has been taken away from us perhaps it is time for us to find a way to give a gift of ourselves.

Time for Questions:

What is your experience with death and dying? How have you handled the death of a loved one? How have you helped others who are going through this pain? What will you need when you lose your partner or a close loved one? Can you share any experiences with others who might benefit from your experience?

Life is just beginning.