Two Old Ladies, Sitting in Chairs
There we are, every night. Sitting in our chairs. Holding hands. I can't eat much anymore, so sometimes I have a half eaten bowl of rice pudding sitting next to me or a half of a bologna sandwich. Chemo brings strange cravings. I hadn't eaten bologna in decades and then one day, coming home from chemo, I suddenly wanted a bologna sandwich on plain white bread with mayo.
I said as much to T. She gave me a look, but complied. We had never purchased bologna before and she had a few questions.
Beef? Chicken? Everything but the kitchen sink? Pork?
I thought for a moment. "I guess the kind we had when we were kids. So....I dunno. Everything?" T grimaced, but went into Fareway and came out with it. I was eating so little at that point that if I had asked her to find me cooked zebra, she would have found it.
Then, we had to buy some Wonder bread. We had shifted long before to only buying bread from either the Lithuanian Bakery or Le Quartier. And mayo. We hadn't bought mayo in years.
That night, I had a bologna sandwich for dinner. It was so good. I have had other chemo cravings, but none as odd as bologna. Hot dogs. Chili. Tomato soup. Chicken noodle soup. Crackers and cheese. Fig Newtons. Beef stew.
But, mostly....food of any kind sort of nauseates me. I have to look away at commercials for restaurants. BK, especially, has one with sizzling beef that sends me railing to the bathroom every time.
Mostly, we sit, T and I. Side by side. Hand in hand. Watching our shows.
Witcher.
Shameless.
This Is Us.
Anything Stephen King.
Mindhunters.
Outlander.
Game of Thrones. (Now over...alas)
The Vikings.
The Last Kingdom.
Unbelievable.
The Voice. (Mindless but I miss Adam....)
HGTV (We are terrible snobs. How can two people, one who is a cop and the other who is a yoga instructor afford a 800,000$ house? And WHY is she constantly whining about white cupboards in the kitchen?)
Chopped. (Sort of hilarious since neither of us can cook. We can barely burn toast. But, we have learned what glace is and the difference between julienne and merely slicing. If T HAD to, she could bake me a birthday cake....)
We sit quietly, hands clasped. We have never been hand holders. We were always the opposite of romantic. We were the types who used to read each other stupid tweets posted by family members who went on and on about cute things their spouses said or did. Now, we are our own private rom com. We snuggle. We put our heads on the other's shoulders. We place kisses in the other's hand if we get up to replenish our water or juice glasses. Sometimes we....sorry....gag me......eskimo kiss.
This all began after my diagnosis with terminal cancer. It was as if our relationship time clock suddenly went into hyper drive. Where we thought we had about 20 years left, we now maybe had 2 or 3, if we were very lucky.
I began to really look at T. Really. Truly. Really truly. My god. She had the most tender brown eyes. We held each other, clung to each other.
"I can't imagine a life without you in it."
"I don't want to die! Not because I'm scared, but because there is no where I want to go without you."
"Promise me you won't forget me on the other side. Wait for me?"
"If you need me, just call to me in your head. I will find a way to get to you and I WILL help."
Suddenly, nothing else really mattered except each other. Us. Our love has always been something that we deemed important enough to fight for. I was shunned by my family for over a decade for choosing her. But, this was different. This was something that had the power to pull us apart. And we could not bear to even think of that. We were a matched set. Kindred spirits. The stuff that good poetry pointed to.
And now, I would have to go into some unknown place without her. Neither one of us is religious, but we do have spirituality. Something is out there. When we moved into our home, we discovered that we had a ghost. At first, T was terrified. I never was. She ran away. I ran toward. Eventually, we both knew that our ghost not only accepted us, but liked us and often would warn us about problems with the house. A shower that was leaking into our crawlspace. A roof problem. After a decade of living in the house, our ghost suddenly vanished. We figured she at last trusted us to be good caretakers of the house that her husband had built for her.
So, we believe that there is an afterlife. We just don't buy that religion gab that Catholics get to sit up front. We think that heaven is full of Muslims, Jews, Catholics, Methodists, Agnostics, Atheists....We both truly believe that if you live a good life, you will be going on to somewhere better. I have known a few incredibly decent agnostics and some truly evil Catholics. Religion willl not save you. Only your heart will. So, I look back on my life and I see a woman who made a few big mistakes but mostly tried hard to do the right thing.
Where will I go and why would I want to be there without T? I always said that I would not be attached at the hip to another human being, but here I am, with my soul mate. With T.
I sit in my chair and lean against her warm sweatered arm. She bends to kiss my head. I know her scent like my own. It IS mine now.
Later, as I am falling back into the bed, she leans over me to kiss me goodnight, say that she adores me. I respond with arms around her neck, more kisses.
"I love you so very much," I say, my heart in my throat.
"See you tomorrow?" she asks, hope thick in her own throat.
I say yes, of course. One day, I will be lying. But, now? I think I will probably be here tomorrow.
Each day means everything to me.
I said as much to T. She gave me a look, but complied. We had never purchased bologna before and she had a few questions.
Beef? Chicken? Everything but the kitchen sink? Pork?
I thought for a moment. "I guess the kind we had when we were kids. So....I dunno. Everything?" T grimaced, but went into Fareway and came out with it. I was eating so little at that point that if I had asked her to find me cooked zebra, she would have found it.
Then, we had to buy some Wonder bread. We had shifted long before to only buying bread from either the Lithuanian Bakery or Le Quartier. And mayo. We hadn't bought mayo in years.
That night, I had a bologna sandwich for dinner. It was so good. I have had other chemo cravings, but none as odd as bologna. Hot dogs. Chili. Tomato soup. Chicken noodle soup. Crackers and cheese. Fig Newtons. Beef stew.
But, mostly....food of any kind sort of nauseates me. I have to look away at commercials for restaurants. BK, especially, has one with sizzling beef that sends me railing to the bathroom every time.
Mostly, we sit, T and I. Side by side. Hand in hand. Watching our shows.
Witcher.
Shameless.
This Is Us.
Anything Stephen King.
Mindhunters.
Outlander.
Game of Thrones. (Now over...alas)
The Vikings.
The Last Kingdom.
Unbelievable.
The Voice. (Mindless but I miss Adam....)
HGTV (We are terrible snobs. How can two people, one who is a cop and the other who is a yoga instructor afford a 800,000$ house? And WHY is she constantly whining about white cupboards in the kitchen?)
Chopped. (Sort of hilarious since neither of us can cook. We can barely burn toast. But, we have learned what glace is and the difference between julienne and merely slicing. If T HAD to, she could bake me a birthday cake....)
We sit quietly, hands clasped. We have never been hand holders. We were always the opposite of romantic. We were the types who used to read each other stupid tweets posted by family members who went on and on about cute things their spouses said or did. Now, we are our own private rom com. We snuggle. We put our heads on the other's shoulders. We place kisses in the other's hand if we get up to replenish our water or juice glasses. Sometimes we....sorry....gag me......eskimo kiss.
This all began after my diagnosis with terminal cancer. It was as if our relationship time clock suddenly went into hyper drive. Where we thought we had about 20 years left, we now maybe had 2 or 3, if we were very lucky.
I began to really look at T. Really. Truly. Really truly. My god. She had the most tender brown eyes. We held each other, clung to each other.
"I can't imagine a life without you in it."
"I don't want to die! Not because I'm scared, but because there is no where I want to go without you."
"Promise me you won't forget me on the other side. Wait for me?"
"If you need me, just call to me in your head. I will find a way to get to you and I WILL help."
Suddenly, nothing else really mattered except each other. Us. Our love has always been something that we deemed important enough to fight for. I was shunned by my family for over a decade for choosing her. But, this was different. This was something that had the power to pull us apart. And we could not bear to even think of that. We were a matched set. Kindred spirits. The stuff that good poetry pointed to.
And now, I would have to go into some unknown place without her. Neither one of us is religious, but we do have spirituality. Something is out there. When we moved into our home, we discovered that we had a ghost. At first, T was terrified. I never was. She ran away. I ran toward. Eventually, we both knew that our ghost not only accepted us, but liked us and often would warn us about problems with the house. A shower that was leaking into our crawlspace. A roof problem. After a decade of living in the house, our ghost suddenly vanished. We figured she at last trusted us to be good caretakers of the house that her husband had built for her.
So, we believe that there is an afterlife. We just don't buy that religion gab that Catholics get to sit up front. We think that heaven is full of Muslims, Jews, Catholics, Methodists, Agnostics, Atheists....We both truly believe that if you live a good life, you will be going on to somewhere better. I have known a few incredibly decent agnostics and some truly evil Catholics. Religion willl not save you. Only your heart will. So, I look back on my life and I see a woman who made a few big mistakes but mostly tried hard to do the right thing.
Where will I go and why would I want to be there without T? I always said that I would not be attached at the hip to another human being, but here I am, with my soul mate. With T.
I sit in my chair and lean against her warm sweatered arm. She bends to kiss my head. I know her scent like my own. It IS mine now.
Later, as I am falling back into the bed, she leans over me to kiss me goodnight, say that she adores me. I respond with arms around her neck, more kisses.
"I love you so very much," I say, my heart in my throat.
"See you tomorrow?" she asks, hope thick in her own throat.
I say yes, of course. One day, I will be lying. But, now? I think I will probably be here tomorrow.
Each day means everything to me.
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