Tales From the Grim Reaper Zone

 

The past few days I've been weaving myself into a basket full of depressing thoughts but in my defense, I didn't really know or acknowledge the state of my mind until this morning when I re-read some stuff I'd written about past Memorial Day Weekends. Those weekends were more about day trips along Lake Michigan or get-togethers with family than honoring loved ones that the Grim Reaper snatched from my world. Don’t get me wrong, I've done more than my fair share of grave decorating over the years but what is missing now is the counter-balance to the duties of Memorial day---the fun stuff. The picnics and pot-lucks. The mini day trips that included the feel of the sun and sand, the sound and the smell of waves hitting the shore. That sense of being part of something bigger than just myself is easier to feel at the Big Lake where its water touches the sky and fills the entire horizon, or at family pot-lucks where more often than not I used to bring my mom's version of marinated four bean salad.

I did this re-reading of past holidays instead of going to the Memorial Day event here on campus that was organized by our resident, self-appointment Veterans Committee of one. Given the ages of my fellow residents it's no surprise that anytime he puts a program together to celebrate or honor veterans it's well attended. But I couldn't bring myself to go this time for two reasons. One, because he planned to read the entire Constitution and I'd have a hard time hearing it from the lips of a rabid Trump supporter. And two because last year I felt like a fraud singing along with all the patriotic songs when I was not (and still aren't) all that proud of our country. Sing-asking God to bless our "Great Nation" is not something I felt I could do again, as if we are still the same glorious beacon of freedom and hope we used to be.

But my negative mood was about more that just not wanting to go to that event. I was dog tired from something that happened the night before. It started when a man parked in our guest parking area and walked to a bench in our green space. I didn't think anything of it at first, but eventually I realized that he was wearing mismatched shoes and he looked to be crying half the time. Turns out he was. I didn't recognized him but it also turned out that he lives here and he'd just come from being with his wife down in the assisted living building. The grapevines says she gives him a hard time and blames him for her being moved down there---temporarily if she plays her cards right. She had her leg amputated last year and just broke her good leg and caring for her was more than he could handle. He himself lost all his toes to diabetes.

After an hour of keeping an eye on the man I called our security guard and asked her to go check on him. It was her first day on the job and she was rattled. Long story short while I was on the phone the guy walked over to my building and sat on a bench not more then 12 feet from my open window. I still didn't recognize him---he looked so rough and he had his back to me. Another fifteen minutes past before anyone approached him and it was another resident who was coming home from seeing Wicked and was pressed into helping. The two guys sat on that bench a half hour talking and praying together. Finally Resident Two got Resident One up to his room. By 2:30 AM I was just dosing off to sleep when the fire department showed up and an ambulance took him away. I got two phone calls---one a half hour after the ambulance got here and one in the morning---updating me on this stuff.

This Memorial Day made my loses hurt more, I think, because I went into it thinking a lot about my husband, my brother, my parents and even the dogs that have passed before me. I miss having a close bond with another being. Because I was in an antisocial mood, I spent the whole four day weekend avoiding everyone on campus while licking my wounds. Woe is me, I had no one to hang out with and like it or not, I have no one to blame but myself. If you move into a continuum care complex---like I did---with a goal of not getting close enough to anyone that their dying would hurt, then you pay a price. Mistake or not, it's too late to unwind it.

At the mailbox this morning a woman ran up to me to talk about Resident One, the guy I called security about. She was visibly upset and she said, "This is when the shit is starting to hit the fan. It's so hard to see people go downhill so fast." Then she named three couples who started out together in our independent living buildings but one recently had to go one down the road to a higher level of care. "That's what they signed up for and knew could happen," I rationalized. "I know," she replied, "but it's happening faster than I thought it would." I didn't say it but I was thinking that we're living in the Grim Reaper zone and sooner or later he will get us all. 

Until next Wednesday when I promise I'll be in a better mood. ©