A Closing Note

I’ve decided to bring this blog to a close following the passing of my husband, Bill. This chapter has been a long and meaningful journey, and while grief continues, the caregiving chapter itself has ended.

I’m deeply grateful to everyone who has read along, shared their stories, or found comfort here. I’m going to leave this blog up, in case something written here helps someone else walking the caregiving path. I may occasionally refer back to it in future writing.

I do want to keep writing—but about new seasons, new ideas, and life moving forward. From here, I’ll be writing on Substack, and eventually on a new website focused on The Single-Serving Life.

Thank you for being here, and for being part of this chapter of my life.

— Cindy

The Single-Serving Life

Simple ideas for enjoying life on your own.

A NEW Year and a NEW Resolution

I’m smiling today, and it feels good. I've finally broken out of my “loneliness” depression. I no longer go into a mental slump the minute I walk into my apartment, something I've experienced since I moved Bill into care, two years ago.

A huge breakthrough came thanks to my daughter, Shelly, who gave me a simple but powerful "assignment” (see previous blog posting) to write about all the good things about living alone. I’m an extremely visual person and needed to see my thoughts in print before this truth took root in my brain: Being alone is not bad! 

I no longer feel that I need someone in the house, or that I have to keep busy 24/7, or that I need a man in order to make my life complete. (After 74 years of living under the “guidance” of men, I can finally say that I don’t have to have one to function! That is a miracle in itself!)

 

My next goal is to do something meaningful for the rest of my life. Yes, I will continue to care for Bill, and that is certainly meaningful, but I’m talking about meaningful to me. I want to leave this earth knowing that I made a difference, even if it’s a small difference. 

So that is my 2025 New Year’s resolution: find something meaningful to do. I’ll keep you posted on my journey! 

 

In the meantime, Happy New Year to all of you who take the time to read and comment on my blog. Your comments make my blog not just meaningful, but special! 

Finally: Read this article from Time Magazine on "How to Get Better at Doing Things Along." 

Assignment from My Daughter

I complain a lot about being alone. My daughter, however, has been single all her life; so I asked her how she deals with it. It's not a problem for her at all. After going round and round for a while, she gave me an assignment: write down all the good things about living by myself. I decided to take her up on it, so here goes:

1. I only cook meals that I like.

2. I eat when I want to and don't eat if I don't want to.

3. I don't have to clean up someone else's messes: dishes, laundry, bathrooms, etc.

4. I sleep when I want to and get up when I want to.

5. I watch tv that I want to watch or watch none at all.

6. I decorate my place the way I choose.

7. I don't have to share drawers, closets, rooms, etc. 

8. I go on trips when and where I want.

9. I buy my own car, furniture, household supplies, food without anyone arguing about the style, size, color, price, etc.

10. I don't have to wait on someone when they're sick.

11. I don't have to "be quiet" because someone else doesn't like my piano playing or music blaring or anything else I do that makes noise. Bill hated noise.

12. I invite whomever I want for dinner and serve whatever I want to cook.

13. I wear what I want - even go braless if I want!

14. When I go out, I don't have to wait for someone to get ready or rush because someone's in a hurry.

15. I play games with friends; something I rarely did as a kid and never when Bill was home. 

16. I have plenty of free time to do what I want. 

17. I have "girls day/night out" or "gal overnights" - another thing I rarely did as a kid.

18. I enjoy new hobbies, activities, restaurants, outings; things my husband would never try.

So what are the bad things about living alone? I decided it was only fair if I made the opposite list, so here goes:

1. There is no one to talk to when I'm home alone. It's so quiet.

2. When I want to go out on an "adventure," I have to plan ahead; or, I have to go by myself. I miss our impulse activities. 

3. I was going to say I miss affection, but I never got affection. Nor do I give it very easily. So maybe that doesn't count. 

4. I don't like to be home alone during holidays especially. I usually have my kids on the actual holiday (which I'm lucky to have), but the days around it are very lonely. 

5. I miss someone giving me gifts - but then I realized that I always bought my own gifts, anyway He never went shopping. So this is not a valid point.

6. There is no one to tell me I look nice when I dress up. He did do that. 

Now that I look at both lists, I see there are many more advantages to being alone! I guess I should stop complaining and figure out ways I can solve the few problems that it makes for me. Thanks, Shelly!

My Anniversary and Being the "Other Woman"

Today (December 26) is my 54th wedding anniversary, so I delivered Bill his present, and my daughter, Shelly, prepared him a special dish. Wil, my son, accompanied me on the visit. Bill devoured the dish, which made me happy. The one thing we can still do for him is to bring him some special meals. 

He then asked about Wil's children (he has none) and then about mine. This segued into a rather heated "rant" about his ex-wife, whom he was planning to "kick" for her lack of visits.

Wil gently reminded him that I was his wife and a frequent visitor. Bill stared at me, bewildered, and said, "Really?" He clearly had no recollection of me. Perhaps he confused me with Shelly (who also has no kids). I fought to keep my tears from flowing, and redirect him to something else.

I knew this day was coming but it still came as a shock. Evidently, he no longer recognizes me, or at least not all of the time.

Later, over lunch with my son, we couldn't help but laugh. I mean, what else could we do? Now, I'm "the other woman" in his fading memories. I've heard this happens, but I sure didn't expect it today.

On a brighter note, Bill's new medication is working wonders. He's sleeping better and his arthritis has improved. Today, he moved his knees without yelling in pain. He looked better too. This makes me happy. So, despite the unexpected twist, I suppose it was a good day after all.

Missing Connections

December 17, 2024

As I was walking Oreo this morning, I snapped this picture of the fog blanketing Galveston. One building caught my eye – just barely peeking out of the dense mist surrounding it. The scene reminded me of how I’ve been feeling lately . . . disconnected, adrift, unseen.

I’m not having a great week. I don’t want to go see Bill. I want to forget I'm married. I want to pretend I'm a normal 75-year-old widow trying to live out the rest of my life. But I can't.

My therapist says I'm searching for "connection." And it’s true. Like the building in that photo, my connection to Bill feels severed but not completely. It’s like an electric cord that has been chewed on by rodents. It sparks now and then, but no electricity runs through. I'm desperately searching for a source of "power,” but all I find is emptiness. 

Some days, this emotional roller coaster feels unbearable, other days not so much. Today, I’m feeling angry, sad, and guilty, as well as mad at myself and feeling very ungrateful. Eventually, I’ll get over it and act “normal,” whatever that means.

In the meantime, I need to figure out how to get my “power" back, despite the circumstances. Back to my therapist! Until then, I'll sit at my piano. Like David playing for Saul, I’ll play to soothe my restless, tormented soul. 

Living the Life I was meant to live! (almost)

I finally feel like my life is what I envisioned it to be as a "retired" person. I know Bill is being taken care of, so I'm not currently worried about him. It's one day at a time on that one. 

Yesterday, my son, Wil, created an Ai program to try to get Bill to talk more about the life he currently remembers which is the 60s and 70s; maybe some 80s. It was amazing to watch. In 30 minutes, Wil whipped up a simple Ai that he programmed with lots of info about ROTC, Ft. Wolters and Ft Rucker helicopter school, and Vietnam. Then he directed the Ai to use the info to engage Bill in conversation. It definitely had some flaws (interrupted when it shouldn't and focused two much on certain questions), but it was mostly successful. Because of the way it was programmed, it asked questions that we would never had thought of, resulting in Bill talking about a portion of his life that we had never heard before. Wil said he would correct the flaws in a future version and try again over Christmas.  

At home, I'm happily situated in a small town with good people in an apartment that I enjoy. Oreo and I are getting lots of good exercise and fresh air. The new gym is fantastic! I set a goal to work out in it 2x a week so it's an easy goal to keep. 

 

Oreo and I enjoy the view in the morning whether it's the birds in air, the boats scooting around in the water, or the cruise ships docking. 

I even changed my Facebook page to reflect my new life. I want to feel more positive.

So, for now, life is good. I'm going to enjoy it while I can! 

Keeping Busy

One way I stay grounded is by keeping busy. I take classes at OLLI, including water aerobics, yoga, cribbage, canasta, and cooking. I also take piano lessons and meet with my writer friends once a week to write. Now that I have my new apartment with space for crafting, I’ve started working on art projects again. I also enjoy going out with friends to the symphony, plays, shopping, and other local events.  

 

You’d think with all this activity, I wouldn’t have time to feel sad—but I do.  

 

I love my classes. I cherish time with my friends. I thrive on the busy-ness, but it doesn’t quiet the longing in my heart—for someone to love, to share life with, to be a couple again.  

 

Yesterday, I started reading “One Woman’s Men: Fathers, Brother, Friends, and Lovers” by Sharon Goodwin. The description on Amazon captures it perfectly:  

 

"Each verse tells a story of love, loss, and longing—celebrating the nurturing bond with her father, the shared memories of her brother, and the fleeting yet profound connections with friends and lovers. With unflinching honesty and raw emotion, Sharon captures what it means to be a daughter, sister, friend, and lover, embracing both the beauty and the heartache of these relationships with striking clarity and innocence."  

As I read these poems, I’m struck by how much we, as “widows in waiting,” have in common with those who live with a chronic disease. For those of you following my blog and navigating the emotional complexities of being alone but not alone, I highly recommend this book. It won’t fix anything, but it reminded me that I’m not truly alone—I have sisters out there who understand.  

On a More Positive Note . . .

On a more positive note, I have begun to do some crafting again in my beautiful new apartment. I now have a room JUST for crafting! It's glorious! 

Last week, I made a birthday card for, Debbie, my friend who loves birds. It turned out perfect! 

Now, I'm working on two more birthday cards. A lot of birthdays this month! 

It feels good to be creative AND to have a place to be creative in! Here's the view I have from my window! 

You can see the pool - they just filled it in yesterday! There's also a pickleball court, a cookout area, and a fire pit area. I can't wait until they open it up! 

Wallowing . . .

Why is it that I can keep myself so busy, yet feel so profoundly lonely? My therapist encouraged me today, "Stay busy. Do things for yourself. Live your life." And I do, but there's still this hollow ache inside, a nagging voice that whispers, “You’re all by yourself. You have no one. You’re lonely.” 

Am I wallowing in self-pity? It definitely appears that way, at times. After all, I have so much to be thankful for that other caregivers do not. I have children who care about me, a network of wonderful friends who encourage me, and the luxury of time to care for myself; to keep myself healthy, physically fit, and mentally alert. Financially, I’m comfortable. There’s no bill collector at my door. I have everything I need and more. And my every waking hour isn’t devoted to my husband’s needs. Someone else is taking care of him. I only get to do the “fun” stuff. Yet, whenever I come home at the end of the day, after a whirlwind of activity, I feel this unmistakable slump.

 

My home greets me with silence; the kind of silence that presses down like an iron pillow. Suffocating the "light" out of me. There are no sounds echoing between my four walls, but my own voice as I catch myself talking to Oreo, or even to myself, hoping to fill the empty space. The only footsteps I hear are mine, as I wander from room to room, listening to the tap, tap, tap of my steps on the white pine floor. Perhaps if I walk long enough, I'll convince myself I’m not alone.

 

I wish I could explain these feelings, even to myself. It doesn’t make sense, especially after a full day. I’ve been to breakfast with friends, spent time writing with friends, and even laughed with friends over a game of pinocle. I came home, took Oreo over to the park for a long, brisk walk, and snacked on sharp cheese and fresh grapes. Good friends, good food, and good exercise. What could be missing?

It's been nearly two years since Bill moved into a care home, and "Father Time" continues to tick by, both quickly and slowly, all at once. But the feeling of loneliness lingers on. It’s like I’m waiting . . . but waiting for what? Am I waiting for news that he’s improved? That’s unrealistic. Am I waiting to hear that he’s had a good day? That’s always good news. Or am I waiting to hear that’s he’s declined and only has a short time left? Could I be so callous that I’m willing to rush the inevitable just so I can move on. The thought definitely lurks in the background of my mind, if I’m honest. And that makes me feel terrible.

 

This cycle of emotions I ride every day is exhausting. It’s like an elevator ride from the basement to the 105^thfloor, then back down again, over and over. Mostly I live somewhere in between, but the ups and downs wear me out. I’m so tired of it all. I want it to end. I want the lonely to go away. . . 

 

I shake myself off, tell myself to “put on my big girl panties,” and keep plugging away. "I do have a good life. I’m not really lonely. It's only in my head," I tell myself. "I can do this, can’t I?" 

My rational mind answers, "Yes, you can, because you have no choice. . .  That's the harsh reality of this disease called, Dementia."

Fun with My Rebel Friends at Shelly's Parade Event

Today was an absolutely blast! Shelly made her debut in her very first Galveston parade with her decked-out Jeep, and she asked me to take some photos. So, I put out a call on Facebook, asking for a few friends to join me. Carol, Bev, and Susan were up for it; and, wow, did we have fun! 

 

The day started bright and early with everyone meeting at my place at 8 a.m. so they could tour my new space. From there, we headed over to Galveston Bagel for breakfast. Our next stop was the Library, where we explored their museum and got to chat with some Navy Lieutenants giving a “show and tell” on the Constitution and oceanographic equipment. They even handed out goodies, including this clever little pen that doubles as a screwdriver and level! Super geeky! 

Afterward, we made our way to where Shelly and her friends, Larry and Colleen, were lining up for the parade. We snapped some photos of them prepping for the parade. 

 

Here you can see the new grill Shelly installed that look like teeth! 

We then stopped and chatting with some of the other parade participants, including this group of dancers.

Then, with an hour until the parade kicked off, we decided to go shopping. In and out of stores we went, all along Strand Street, most of which I had never been in before. I bought some jewelry and a mug. Then we sat and chatted while we waited for the parade to get to us. Shelly's jeep stole the show, of course! 

(Sorry for the dropped video in middle - I don't know how to edit!)

When the parade wrapped up, we resumed our shopping spree—but not before stopping by LaKing’s for ice cream, which we all agreed was lunch! We wrapped up our day around 3 p.m.

 

I loved getting to know these gals better! I'd known them from UU, but we’d never just hung out. Spending time with them today was a revelation—Susan, Bev, and Carol have a serious streak of adventure (and a touch of rebellion!). They even “encouraged” me to jaywalk and pull a U-turn right in the middle of the street! But, turns out, even these strong Texas women have their limits. They refused to let me make a left on Holiday Drive at a red light when I hadn’t noticed the green light was only for going straight! 😂

 

I can’t wait to see what kind of mischief we get into next!

At the End Zone!

All the major areas of my apartment now look presentable. Today, I finished the craft room, or at least as much as I can for now. I still need to finish organizing everything, but I'll need to wait on that. 

The only big hurdles left are the closets. They are a disaster! Everything I couldn't figure out what to do with is in there, just piled on top of everything else. I'll get to that next week. 

Also today, Shelly helped me get the remainder of the unwanted items out of my old apartment. Now all I have to do is get it cleaned, hand in the keys, and pay my final bill. Then no more LONG RIDES to the west end! LOL! 

Tomorrow, I'm doing nothing on my apartment. I'm going to take a break from that stuff and visit Bill. They're having a Fall Festival so he'll enjoy that. 

Day 2-7 of my Move . . .

It's been a few days since my last post for good reason. It has been a whirlwind of moving furniture, getting utilities set up, unpacking boxes, and trying to figure out where everything belongs. But, today, I'm mostly settled in my new apartment. The bedroom, kitchen, and living room are livable and mostly decorated. The rest of the place - the 2nd bedroom and closets, not so much!

 

The move itself went smoothly, if not a bit long. Oreo was not happy and was glad when it was over. I have to do a shoutout to Manuel's Moving. They are excellent. Nothing broken. Friendly. And they give you a firm price. No second guessing at the end. I highly recommend them. 

Oreo, "Are we done, yet?"

On this end, it's still a bit chaotic. Only one wing of the complex is open, so there’s construction everywhere. That's why I got three months at 1/2 rent! From my patio, I can see the progress as they plant trees and flowers, install outdoor kitchens, lights, and other décor. Even though the courtyard is a work in progress, it’s already beautiful! In fact, my favorite part of the day is early morning, before the sun comes up. I sit outside on my patio with Oreo in her bed and a cup of coffee in hand, watching the palm trees sway and the lights twinkle over the pickleball court. 

Once the pickleball playing starts, the noises will change, especially with the courtyard being surrounded by walls! But it will be happy sounds, and they have to quit at 10 p.m. Hopefully, I will do as I did when I first moved into the University of Delaware. My dorm was next to a railroad track. I woke up the first night and never heard it since. 

 

Speaking of sounds, my piano has never sounded better. The high ceilings in these apartments - maybe 9 or 10 feet - give it incredible acoustics! Plus, I’m near the cruise line terminal; so, occasionally, I hear the cheerful horn of a docked ship. The wind chimes on my patio add their own special melodies, making this space feel like a personal retreat. On Friday, I bought a dining set and two rockers for the patio, so I could not only "rock" with a guest, but also enjoy meals with friends outside. Finally, I can do some entertaining again!

Oreo is thrilled with the extra space! I’ve upgraded from 725 square feet to 1200, so she has plenty of room to run around and chase her ball. She’s also a fan of the park next door, which is teaming with squirrels. Now, she can do her “big game hunting” again, something she wasn't able to do where we were before. 

           

  

Another thing I love about my new place is driving up to the third floor of the parking garage. From there, I have a perfect view of the Galveston Channel, with ships sailing in and out, and plenty of sea birds soaring by, looking for their latest meal. 

I wish Bill could share in the beauty of this place, but sadly, that’s no longer possible. It’s a bittersweet reminder as I settle in. However, for the first time since we left our home in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma, back in 2017, I’m finally beginning to feel like I’m home again. It’s been a long road, but life is finally getting back to a new kind of "normal."

Day 1 of the New Apartment

Today, is DAY ONE of my move to my new apartment! 

Bill and I moved to Galveston in 2021 to be near our daughter, Shelly. We settled into a two-bedroom apartment not far from her, but when I had to place Bill in a nursing home, my budget couldn’t stretch to cover that space anymore. So, I downsized to a small, 725-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment on the western side of Galveston. This place was far from perfect—tiny, run-down, hurricane-damaged, bad HVAC, and barely holding together. It wasn’t ideal, but it got me through a tough time. 

Now that Bill is in the VA memory care, my budget has stabilized, so I decided it was time for an upgrade. My goal? To find a "forever home"—as forever as anything can be in hurricane territory—somewhere close to Shelly, who lives in the midtown area, and near the places where I spend most of my time, like OLLI and UU.

While I was searching, I came across a brand-new complex called The Cove at Galveston Yacht Basin. It was so new they weren’t even giving tours yet, but I knew this was the right spot for me. In August, I put down a deposit to snag my ideal apartment, making sure it had all the features I wanted: morning sun, a higher floor for flood safety, and a nice view. The complex officially opened last month, and I’m moving in this week!

My new place is 1200 square feet, on the 3rd floor, and overlooks a courtyard with a pool, cabanas, grills, and even a pickleball court. Maybe I’ll give pickleball another try! The convenience of this apartment is hard to beat: I can either take the elevator up or drive up to the third story of the attached parking garage and walk straight into my place. For Oreo potty breaks, I can take the 3-story stairs for more exercise! 

Here’s a fun fact—I calculated that, thanks to less traffic and central location, I’ll save about seven hours a week in travel time! That’s seven more hours to do what I love - crafting, playing my keyboard, and hanging out with friends. In the map below, you can see where I'm located on the island, where Shelly is located and where my new apartment is. The blue dot on the bottom left marks my old place.

The shipping channel and the Gulf surround this area, making it scenic and peaceful. Downtown is just a short drive (or walk) away, there’s a park across the street, with squirrels for Oreo, and everything I enjoy—like OLLI and UU—is within a mile. The ferry to Bolivar is nearby too, so Oreo and I will have plenty of places to explore on our walks.

I chose an interior unit facing the courtyard, with a view of palm trees, the pool, and the pickleball court. The exterior units didn’t have what I wanted, plus I figure this spot gives me a little more protection from hurricanes. Fingers crossed, right? 

My apartment layout below. The 2nd BR will be my crafting room. My piano will be in living room as the centerpiece - I'm determined to give a concert someday! Haha!  

Today, I'll be getting internet installed and taking over my clothes, some food, a chair or two, and one of Oreo's beds. Then back here to pack some more. I'll post some more as the week goes by. 

Life in Limbo - 12 Months after Placement - December 2023

This is a memoir piece I wrote in December, 2023, a year after I had placed Bill into Memory Care. I include this on my blog so that others going through similar events and emotions will know they are not alone. 

December 31 - it’s the last day of 2023. It’s been a long year full of stress, life-changing decisions, fears, and tears; however, it’s also been a year filled with new friendships, new adventures, wonderful times with my children, and a taste of freedom.

Bill has been in a care home for over a year now. His physical condition has slightly worsened in that he walks less and spends more time in a wheelchair; however, he’s still fairly healthy for a 75-year-old.

His personality change has been more significant. Mentally, he’s showing signs of advanced dementia. In seconds, he goes from a pliable child to an angry adult. He’ll be coloring with crayons, participating in exercise class, or “dancing” with a nurse; then, in the next minute, he’ll turn angry. These bouts of aggression range from yelling and screaming to getting into physical battles. His latest tirade got him sent to a psych hospital for evaluation after he yanked a nurses’ arm out of socket. These behaviors are so totally out of character for the mild, reserved, service-oriented person I remember and loved.  

Dementia, to me, is one of the worse diseases a person can have and one of the worse diseases for caregivers to endure. Watching my spouse go through this disease makes me feel pity, agitation, anger, fear, and despair. I feel powerless, hopeless, and cheated. I could go on and on describing the heart-wrenching feelings this disease brings to caregivers, but it doesn’t change a thing. We must go on.

My feelings fluctuate back and forth, depending on the situations of the day. And the worst part is that there is NO END in sight. There is no cure. There is no easy way to help Bill get through this. And it will, most likely, go on for years and years to come. 

I find myself in limbo, somewhere between being a mother, wife, and a widow. How am I supposed to act? When I’m with Bill, I’m his mother (or a caregiver depending on his cognizance). Briefly, he wants his wife for a kiss, but he quickly reverts back to wanting his mother or caregiver. “Get me a coke.”  “Did I get my medicine?” “Help me clean my pants.” 

When I’m at home, I’m a widow, but without freedom. I still have the desires, wants, and needs of a woman; but, if I went looking for a male companion, I would feel like I’m cheating on my husband. My girlfriends are wonderful and help tremendously, but there is a part of me that craves male companionship. Someone to make me feel loved, comforted, and needed. Those desires are risky at this stage of my life. I’m not single. I’m not a widow. I’m somewhere in-between. 

So that’s my status at the end of 2023 - waiting to see what life brings in 2024. Will it be more of the same? Or will I successfully learn to function as a mother/wife/widow without disappointing myself? Will I develop even more friendships (male and female), enjoy more new adventures, and still take care of Bill’s needs in a new and better way? I hope so.

I want to grow through this experience a better person; capable of caring for Bill and his needs while loving myself enough to take care of my needs as well. As a flight attendant says before take off, “Put on your own oxygen mask first. You can’t take care of someone else until you take care of yourself first.” 

To all you caregivers out there dealing with similar life challenges, I wish you a better 2024. 

Take care of yourself first. Make that a priority. Then, trust in your goodness to take care of your spouse in the best way possible. We can do this, together. 

Independence Day Part 2 - UBER! July 2024

 I did it! I finally UBERed all by myself! I walked to the grocery store near my cousin, Diane's house. Shopped, then UBERed home! Wa HOO!

Riding in the UBER car - 1st time excitement! 

I did it! 

Independence Day and Hurricane Beryl-July 2024

Hurricane Beryl, in the summer of 2024, was the catalyst that got me moving in the right direction - towards independence. It was time for me to take the next step in my life - to do the things I’ve been afraid to do because I have to do them alone. 

Traveling by myself was one of those things. I was afraid to fly. Afraid to drive across the country alone. Calling an UBER or taxi made me anxious. I worried about Bill and my dog, Oreo. Who would take care of them while I'm gone. No, it's just too hard to travel. So, I didn't. 

When I learned that Beryl was heading further east than originally anticipated, I decided to evacuate my home in Galveston. I knew Bill would be ok in the Veteran’s home in Houston as it was built recently and with Texas storms in mind. But my apartment in Galveston is old, and I live on the first floor. The weather forecasters were predicting floods, not wind damage, so I left. My daughter, Shelly, who lives on the 3^rd floor, chose to stay behind. 

I packed up the car with my important paperwork, my best clothes, food and Rx for me and Oreo, and whatever else I couldn’t replace that would fit in the car. 

I had plans on leaving at noon. I wanted to be sure everything was battened down and that I didn't leave anything behind. However, in the midst of pondering my options, I got a call from Shelly, “Mom, you have to leave, now! The rain is on its way, and I don’t want you to be caught driving in the storm.”

Now, I was truly panicked. I scrambled out to the patio and literally threw the furniture and decor into the middle of my living room floor. I raced out the front door, grabbed the doormat, my ceramic porcupine, and the valet trashcan off the porch and flung them in my hallway. Then, I snatched Oreo and tried to get her to “go potty” for the long drive. That was not happening. She could see I was stressed and that made her stressed. The more I yelled, “go potty,” the more she would not go potty. I finally gave up, tossed her in the car, and headed up the road. By now, my blood pressure was probably 180/100! 

I made it to Houston before the rain started. Fortunately for me, it was one of the tails of the hurricane, and it was not long before I drove out of the downpour. The rest of the trip to Austin was peaceful, so I my blood pressure finally calmed down. 

I stopped at Bucky’s on the way into Austin where I got food and Oreo did her business. All was well as I drove into the entrance of my son’s apartment. Now I could relax until the storm was over. 

Unfortunately, the storm came into Galveston worse than predicted. Shelly and I were on the phone a good part of the night as she endured the assault of the hurricane. The winds roared, swirling debris slammed the sides of her building, her roof began to drip water, and the windows leaked. I can only imagine how she felt on the 3^rd floor. That is another story only she can tell. 

Eventually, the storm passed, leaving the whole area without electricity. Beryl's 85 mph winds had downed power lines and poles from Houston to Galveston. Rubble and water covered the streets, trees pierced roof tops of homes and businesses, dozens of pelicans lay dying on the causeway, and the temperatures soared into the 90s with 60% humidity. Although, all my friends and family were safe, it would take weeks to recover from Hurricane Beryl. 

That was when I decided to take a new step to my independence. My son, Wil, encouraged me to “get out and see the world” while he took care of Oreo. I quickly booked a flight to New Jersey before I could change my mind. What better way to start my new life than around family. 

So, now I'm here, staying with my cousin, Diane. Not only will I have a chance to visit with my extended family, but I’m planning on taking some radical steps to prepare me for my new “single” life. 

Step 1: I’m going to get around in New Jersey by myself, as needed. No more depending on family to get me there. Yesterday, I drove 20 minutes away, on the highway, to see my aunt in her nursing home and then shopped for groceries. All by myself. Guess what? It was easier than getting around in Houston to visit Bill! 

Step 2: On my way home, I’m planning to take a train from Trenton to Philadelphia, all by myself. No more depending on family to take me and pick me up from the airport. I’ve never done this before, but I can do it. I know I can. 

Step 3: I’m going to learn to UBER. I’m going to UBER from the train station to my hotel near the airport. 

Step 4: No more plane PTSD! If I need to fly, I’m going to fly. After all, it’s more risky to drive on Houston highways than it is to fly in a plane.  

Step 5: I’m going to set boundaries. If anyone says “No, you can’t stay in a hotel or drive across the country by yourself, I’m going to listen to advice that helps me make a safe decision, but I’m going to do whatever it takes to make me more independent. 

My friends and loved ones want to protect me, but I need to do this for me. I spent my whole life dependent on someone: my family or my husband. Now, I’m alone. I have to learn to do for myself or I will waste the years I have left wishing I had done the things I wanted to do. 

No more. Today begins Independence Day for Cindy Downes. 

UPDATE: I downloaded the UBER and LIFT apps. Got familiar with them and then proceeded to let my cousins take care of me the whole week, even take me to the airport. It was too easy to let them do it. Hopefully, I'll work on this when I get back to Galveston. One step forward, two steps back. . . 

Retirement Revisited-April 2024

This is a piece I wrote from a writing prompt on retirement. My gal pals (Debbie and Lori) and I get together once a week and write about whatever comes to mind, starting with prompts that Debbie gives us. It's always fun to read what we come up with. Sometimes, we write memoir pieces; other times we go off into fantasy land and write fiction. I'm thankful that I have made so many wonderful friends on the island, especially my writing group gals! 

Retirement Revisited

We were about to enjoy the last years of our lives, visiting parts of the U.S. that we had never seen before, eating at local pubs and diners where the town folk eat, and taking photos for our memory albums. That’s all Bill wanted to do after he retired. Travel and dine out.  

Bill at Museum

  

Clowning Around Taking photos

It wasn’t all I wanted to do, but I enjoy these things too. I could still craft, read, write, walk in the park, and do the things I enjoy when we were home. So, for me, life was going to be good. We had enough money to live comfortably and enjoy our retirement. Just a simple life with simple plans. 

Visiting a Bird Sanctuary

But that simple plan failed. Instead of traveling and dining in the U.S., Bill is now dining in a memory care unit in Houston, Texas. Instead of making new memories, Bill is desperately trying to remember whether he has Army Reserve drills this weekend or flying the police helicopter out of Dover, Delaware. Is he fixing computers in Tulsa, Oklahoma, or taking photos in Virginia Beach? Some days, he’s trying to remember how to get to work. Other days, he thinks he remembers that he owns this memory care unit. Where did that come from? I have no idea. He had been a man of many talents, but he had never owned his own business. 

 

And me? I sit here in Galveston in between visits to Bill, lonely, confused, and angry. There is no one here for me when I wake up in the morning. There is no one here for me to compliment the meals I make. There is no one here to call an ambulance for me if I have a heart attack. 

 

For a while, I continue this pity party. “Oh, woe is me. Who’s going to take care of me?” Then I think about my single kids and friends. How do they do it? All their lives, they’ve been single, but I don’t hear them complaining about the things I complain about. Instead, they’ve learned to adjust their lives to being single. 

 

I mentally slap myself in the face and force myself to reevaluate. “Move on with your life,” I tell myself. “You have a husband in memory care, but you still have hours, if not days, of every week left for you. Take them. No one else can take them for you. Staying home and sulking won’t make your husband any better. It won’t help him to have the retirement he deserves. Nothing will. That’s a given. But you, home alone, crying, bitter, and yearning for a life not possible, helps no one. Not Bill. Not you. Not your family and friends trying to help you move on. 

 

“The guilt won’t go away; that’s true. But it also can’t be solved. It’s not your fault. It’s not his fault. It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just the way it is. Accept that fact that you feel guilty, but also accept the fact that you can’t change the circumstances no matter how hard you try. And then, get on with the rest of your life. Enjoy the time you have for yourself. Do the things you’ve wanted to do. Experience life as you’ve never done before. No, it's not the retirement you had hoped for, but it can be a retirement worth living, for both you and for Bill.

 

“As you embark on new adventures and experience a life that refreshes the soul, your visits to Bill will become a pleasure instead of a thing to be dreaded each week. When you smile, he can smile. When you’re refreshed, you’ll have the ability to shower him with the few pleasures he can still have, whether it’s a home-baked cookie, a “contraband” coke, a visit with his dog, or even a short ride through Freddy’s drive in for a Peanut Butter Concrete. It may not seem much to you, but for him, It’s a special treat for a special day.

 

“Now, that’s a retirement you can be proud of.”