Twilight

I recently confided in a friend that lately I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone, caught between dimensions. The friend offered appreciated support for this time of transition. Feeling like I am in time of transition, in between dimensions, comes as no surprise; Cindy’s affliction is one of continual decline. What I’ve been wondering is why do I feel that transition intensely now, rather than a month ago? Or a year ago?

With my last blog post, titled Weariness, I knew I hit upon the answer. We are at the convergence of a variety of factors that make Cindy weary. Outside, the colder weather means pedicab season is over and even our short walks are cut back to fair weather days. Even then she only can get those short walks in by holding onto me. Inside, her lack of balance means she is only on her feet when I conscientiously make her do so to encourage blood flow and prevent sores. Had she been anyone but an “Expedition Woman,” in the care of anyone but a “Mountain Man,” she undoubtedly would be confined to a wheelchair by now.

That leaves watching Hallmark Christmas movies and sitcoms, reading out loud the exploits of Ramona and visitors dropping by as the only moments when Cindy embraces the joy that has defined her life. Oh, and hugs, lots of hugs. We still have numerous moments of joy in a day but notice the common thread; they all depend on external conditions.

I know that is at the heart of why I have this Twilight Zone feel; we have reached the twilight of Cindy’s life. In the daylight of her life, which continued up until very recently, Cindy could find joy internally. Now she needs help with what has been integral to her as a person.

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I still appreciate those moments of joy, awarded as I am by her famous smile. And the hugs, lots of hugs. Maybe she will be like the Cheshire Cat and that smile will be the last thing remaining. Yet the twilight, no matter how peaceful or beautiful in its own right, imposes a sobering mood by signaling the inevitability of night. Whether Cindy’s night arrives when her smile leaves or her life passes away, whichever comes first, that night is coming more sooner than later.

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8 Responses to Twilight

  1. Ruth says:

    As a (recently) former caregiver, I eventually developed the perspective of that this whole experience is a big sand painting…you know, the ones that Tibetan monks create and then let the ocean wash away…we care, we give, we love, oh so much, without applause or recognition …and then it ends…as we know it will..but ALL OF LIFE is this sand painting, whether it is raising a child or guiding a dear one to the end…it washes away, but the energy of the Love never leaves..we continue on..with grief, but also with renewed perspective and love of life in every form..

  2. Kimberley says:

    Cheers to Ruth- Amen
    Peace & Strength yo you Kirk
    XOXO

  3. Freyda Strackeljahn says:

    This leaves me breathless. I too am caring for an ill person that has become none complacent about his end. So I stay away and let others help him through this difficult and personal time. I choose then to care for the family home and animals that remain as an integral part of being. It is a devastating experience and at the same time sublime. The moment and remembrances of special times, laughter, family memories and the “good times” linger constantly on what was and is in my life as well as his. He is in hospice care and the end will come soon. His dementia and Alzheimer’s have taken over his life and many of the fond memories have become distorted, I choose to remember the good times as they really were without the condemning distortions of his present reality. And so we walk in this twilight together, looking for answers to questions never asked, we each seek to find peace with each. I only wish him happiness and peace on his journey. One can not change or make his journey any easier, for I have come to realize that we each travel our own path, no matter how close we are to anyone…we are a comet in the sky that lights up and then is no more…where we go, what we become is unknown. It is one of the mysteries of life. We are just here to admire that light others bring to our lives, travel the path with them as close as we can…without colliding or intruding in their path of Light. May all the peace in the world be with us All. For we will soon be smiling from above and may in our journey…find the moments of love of others who look up and love us and see the beauty of our life’s Light.

  4. Debbie says:

    Take comfort in all of the great memories that you created together. Cindy is lucky to have such a compassionate caregiver. Sending love and hugs your way. Debbie and Kirk

  5. Mike H. says:

    Hey, just checking in and letting you know I was thinking about you, remembering some of the first practice hikes for the AT we all shared. Who would have guessed the “journey” we all would experience, much of it shared together?

    Yes, life experiences are hard, in many ways, but I’m going to try and continue to keep hugging both of you, if only figuratively, to the best of my ability. Peace and Love, M.

    • admin says:

      Yes, our journeys have coincided more than most. For that we’ve been grateful. You should have received an email with a link from me recently. Would love to get your feedback on it. Be well.

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