The funny thing ("odd" not "ha-ha") is that we weren't close - at all. My main memories of him were that he loved my mother deeply and without reservation and took damn good care of her. That was all I really cared about. He was a very nice man and had tons of friends but their geographical distance from me made getting to know him difficult. On top of that, I was so wrapped up in my own life that getting to know the guy who married my mom just got put on the backburner. Cut to 20 years later and it's suddenly too late and you're left with that incredibly lame "gee, I sure wish I'd gotten to know him better" statement. For him, there is no aftershock or coping/adapting; he went quickly pretty much, so there's no suffering for him either. It's all on the ones he's left behind.
His loss is of direct concern to me because of what he meant to my mother. They were like peanut butter & jelly; you never saw one without the other. She relied on him for most everything in her day-to-day life; reminding her to take her medicine, driving her to doctor appointments, shopping, etc., etc. Now that anchor has been cut loose and she's adrift and, in no small way, suddenly very much alone in the world. Family & friends will be there for support but over time that will dwindle, she will eventually have to re-learn how to live by herself. My fear is: can she do that? Her health as been declining over the last five years or so, even more in the last 18 months. I am deeply afraid that, combined with the loss of his physical absence & assistance, plus simply losing the other half of her whole life... will literally kill her. He was her rock and now, just like that, he's gone. Trying to start your life over at 75 is no easy feat. I am terrified for her. Her distance (14hr drive) and refusal to move closer to myself and the rest of her immediate family bothers me but I also understand her reasons, (a beautiful home that's paid for, no bad winters plus lots and lots of friends), and wouldn't try to force her. I must simply make the best of it, as must she.
Now I have to travel halfway across the country tomorrow and spend the next week trying to shore up my mother while she buries the man she's spent the last quarter of a century growing to love deeper & deeper with each passing day. Thank God my wife will be there with me, for
me to turn to for support... or else I fear I will crumble. Yes, it's part of life and no, it's certainly not a very pleasant part. With every passing year I further dread when those dark days come for me. I just hope it's relatively quick & painless. And I hope my wife goes before I do. I hate the thought of her being alone, as my mother is now. She doesn't deserve such pain. She has enough of that with me while I'm still alive to regularly aggravate her.
