After Thoughts On A Perfect Wedding

A friend once told me that her daughter's wedding day was the happiest day of her life. I thought that was a sweet sentiment but I'd seen the harried parents of the bride and been involved in the frenzy of activities surrounding a wedding and secretly thought the day might just be a bit overwhelming and probably pretty exhausting for the mother of the bride. It's not that I wasn't excited and it's not that I didn't think there would be some pretty special moments but I really was not prepared for the love fest that occurred.

You see, my daughter's wedding was pretty damn perfect. The universe conspired to create perfect weather, an orange full moon, country air, a wonderful mix of wedding guests and a bride and groom in love and enjoying every single moment.

Yes, it was hectic. Looking back I find myself wishing I had spent more time with those who had traveled far. I wish I could have been everywhere at once and been a part of every special moment that occurred. But even though it did pass in a blur, I was absolutely euphoric. My friend was right. My daughter's wedding day was definitely one of the best of my life and I can now anticipate the same for my other children.

This aftermath is strange though, I am feeling a bit unsettled, even a bit upset that it is all over. You would think I would be exhausted after five days of wedding festivities but I wish I could turn back the clock, do it all again, only in slow motion.

Some Highlights:

-Tucking my grown daughters into bed the night before, feeling gleeful and anticipatory.

-Waking the morning of the wedding with the excitement one feels as a child at Christmas.

-Craig singing "Going To The Chapel" as Ali left the house.

-Gathering at my sister's house while the bridesmaids had their hair done.

-High fiving with Craig as we drove to the church, feeling some disbelief that the day was actually here and the moment had arrived.

-The arrival of friends and loved ones at the church. Some I hadn't seen in years.

-My joyous walk down the aisle on the arm of my son.

-Ali and her father making it down the aisle without Craig breaking down. Ali beaming the entire way.

-My father officiating the ceremony in the same church Craig and I were married in 30 years ago.

-My eldest daughter singing The Lord's Prayer as the setting sun broke through the stain glass as though God was blessing this happy occasion.

-Giving my new son-in-law his first "Vicky Kiss" at the end of the ceremony. (I'm told I kiss hard when I am feeling especially affectionate!)

-Watching Ali and Paul arrive at the reception site via horse and buggy.

-The full orange moon shining on the reception.

-Dancing, Dancing, Dancing- young and old alike.

-Hugs and laughter and a beaming bride and groom.

We were truly blessed. Blessed with no real glitches, blessed with friends and family in attendance but most of all blessed with a new son-in-law who is truly stellar. It's strange to add a new member to the family. I knew I really liked him but it didn't really, really hit me until the wedding day. As I looked at Paul, I realized I just love him. I love him because he is such a great guy, I love him because he loves my daughter, I love him because he will be a forever part of our future, I love him because he will be the father of my grandchildren. It may seem odd to acknowledge that feeling because surely it's a normal reaction but I don't always think it's a given and I was thrilled to feel that in a deep and abiding way.

All in all it was a perfect wedding. And while I am sure most mothers of the bride feel the same, I'm just saying... this really was amazingly, intoxicatingly, blessedly perfect.

Sigh...

VSL

It's Wedding Week!!!

My daughter, Ali, gets married on Saturday. It seems like just a short while ago I was saying -my daughter is getting married in 6 months, then 4 months, then 6 weeks and now it's here. IT'S WEDDING WEEK! Despite a certain amount of anxiety and trepidation, I am ready for this glorious day.

I find it interesting how the natural progression of life prepares you for these huge moments. A daughter is born and she grows and grows. First come the sleepless nights of infancy. Those days you hope will pass soon, and they do. And in a blink of an eye, you've weaned her from the bottle, sent her off to Kindergarten, traversed elementary school, ached with her during those awful junior high moments, taught her to drive, celebrated her in a cap and gown, driven away from a dorm in a far off campus with tears in your eyes, proudly watched her land her first grown up job and cheered with her when she met the man of her dreams.

And even though it passes quickly, life does conspire to prepare you for all those stages. So having a daughter ready to walk down the aisle feels like the next step. I am ready for this. Ready to watch Ali in her gown walking down the aisle on her father's arm, ready to celebrate with friends and family and ready to welcome Paul into our family.

I think ahead to next steps for all my children- first houses, career moves and babies. Yes, babies. I already think about what those babies will look like, maybe they will have auburn hair like my daughters, Paige and Ali, or a face full of freckles and cat green eyes like my son, Evan. I know deep in my soul that my relationship with those little creatures will be like no other. I CAN'T WAIT TO BE A GRANDMOTHER! I've seen how the lives of my parents, my in-laws and now some of my friends have been so enriched by their grandchildren and I know mine will be too.

And so I move through these next few days, giddy with anticipation, joy and excitement. And, though, it's a new phase in Ali's life, it's my next step too and I welcome it with open arms. Craig and I will now be the proud parents of a married child. I will add this day to all those shining days I've celebrated in my life- my own wedding and the births of each of my children.

Today I am trying to take slow breaths and enjoy this week, this week that comes with all the festivities lying just ahead and an understanding that it too will be over in the blink of an eye.

My daughter is getting married on Saturday, Oh Joyful day.

VSL

Inertia

I so admire those people I know (and there are many) who accomplish whatever it is they set out to accomplish. Those people who just seem to make things happen. It's not that I haven't accomplished a great deal in my life. I have. It's just there is so much more I want to do and to say I've done. Mark it off my list! And when I think about all those things left undone, all those things I hope to do, I get so annoyed with myself. I just don't understand why, if you want it, you don't go for it. Yet, with me, any roadblocks seem to stop the momentum and I just feel stymied.

I know that most things worth pursuing take effort and don't just happen but when I find myself "stuck" it is my natural reaction to back off and just float. And, when I say float I mean the floating can go on for months or even years at a time, with me running on the same schedule, doing the same things, not really moving forward. The result can be a sense of dissatisfaction with the life you've created and a yearning for all those things you desire but seem so out of reach. When I think about it, I guess there is a laziness in settling and not stretching yourself. This is especially easy to do when you are employed full time, working 40+ hours each week and managing your personal life. At those times, there are simply not enough hours in the day. Well, at least that was always my excuse.

The thing is I am at a point in my life where I have the time to make things happen. I have the time to plan and research and analyze exactly what it is I want to see happen in my life. I get so angry at myself when I realize that 6 months of unemployment have slipped by and I've done nothing substantial to really move me forward.

Most mornings I wake up, stretch and think, "Do something." Within an hour or two I've slipped into the sameness of my days- pick up the house, let the dog out, fed the pets, read the paper, peruse the help wanteds, check my email, groom myself, etc. etc. etc. More often than not I do have some sort of agenda for the day- lunch with a friend, an errand to run, house cleaning, laundry, cooking, grocery shopping. These tasks fill my days and by evening I usually feel like I've done something and now I can relax and watch TV or read a book or maybe take a walk. All this is well and good but days slip into weeks and I find myself disgusted just thinking of the hours and hours I've wasted just livin' my life.

What do I want to accomplish?

- I need to find a way to make money that brings me satisfaction but is not all consuming.

- I need to write and get something published. All these ideas for novels float in my head and the most I do is create an outline and a summary but rarely do I feel energized enough to actually stick my butt in a chair and write.

-I need to find a way to serve my community.

-I need to find a way to update my house on a budget.

-I need to reach out to those in need.

-I need to spend as much time as I can with my parents and in-laws as they grow older.

-I need to find a way to travel to all the exotic places I yearn to see.

-I need to explore options for renewable energy on our family farms.

-I need to study and learn more about those very farms as they will be passed on to my generation soon, and being a city girl, I know nothing about farming.

-I need to create a healthier lifestyle for myself and my husband. We are on track in some areas and far off track in others.

Inertia... it's a really bad feeling, one that can overcome you with it's weight. It's SO easy to be distracted with the little things required to manage a household and your life. So easy to be distracted planning a major family event like my daughter's upcoming wedding. So easy, to drift and float and let the days run one into the other.

My middle aged self knows life is short. I am most likely more than half way through my life. Letting the days turn into months, then into years is really rather irresponsible. Yet, for right now, I CAN'T SEEM TO MOVE.

I do know though, if my past life has shown me anything, it has shown me that these times of inertia are often followed by brief periods of extreme change and activity. Enough activity to satisfy for a long time, enough activity to make one exhilarated and weary at the same time. I suppose I am just waiting for the explosion. I just wish I were more the type that makes the change happen, rather than the type that waits for it to find me.

I am ready.... FIND ME, FIND ME.


VSL

Moving KU Style

Last week was moving week for my son, Evan. He lives about 30 minutes away in a university town. Up until last week we were unfamiliar with the "rules" of moving in this college town. Apparently you move out the last day of the month but are not allowed to move into your new residence until the following day. Makes sense, the new dwellings wouldn't be available until the prior tenants had moved out. But somehow, this never occurred with Evan's sisters. They attended a different university and their living situations never required this two day move scenario.

Plans for the move began with the sudden realization that the end of the month was approaching and Evan was moving from one apartment to another. Had any plans been put in motion? No. Did Evan have any of the information we needed to proceed with the move? No. Was Evan even aware that he had to be out by 5:00 on the 31st and not able to move into the new place until the next day? No. The initial conversation, earlier in the week, went something like this:

"Hi Evan, hey do you realize you're moving this weekend?"

"Yes mother."

"So... What's the plan?"

"I don't know, I guess you and dad will bring the truck and we can move on Friday."

"Did you know your dad can't get off work on Friday?"

"Bummer."

"Let me talk to your dad and see what we can figure out."

"Okay"

All I can say is, he should thank God for his parents.

Call back (later in the day):

"Evan, we'll move you Thursday to your Aunt Becky's garage and then come back down and move you into your new place on Saturday."

"Right-on."

"Have everything packed by the time we arrive Thursday morning.

"Okay."

"Seriously."

"I will mom. Hey, there won't be room for my sofa or my recliner (both of which were garage sale items) so I think I'm just going to throw them off the roof."

"WWWhat??? No, no, don't do that. We'll see if someone in the family wants them or put them by the curb for scavengers."

"Okay." ( He and his buds threw them off the roof. However, they were still considered valuable and all his curbside crap was taken by other needy students within hours of their curbside placement.)

Thursday arrived and the move went quite smoothly. Evan was packed and really didn't have a lot of stuff. We got it all in his dad's truck, my car and Evan's car. One trip to my sisters... unload it and on to helping my niece move. Oh yeah... she didn't have any specific plans in place either and once again it was family to the rescue.

I was looking forward to seeing Evan's new place. He was pretty proud that it wasn't the dump his first place was. When I say dump I am not exaggerating. He had a 2nd floor studio apartment in an old, run down Victorian. The walls were pukey yellow, the blinds were falling down, some of the window panes were loose, the bathroom was hideous. The first night in that place a bat welcomed him home. There was mouse poop everywhere. I'm pretty sure Evan hadn't vacuumed or cleaned his bathroom in months. It was disgusting. I ended up cleaning the place in the hopes we would get the deposit back. I used a disinfectant on myself afterwards.

So... back to the new place. I guess I shouldn't have let my expectations run too high. There's a weird phenomenon that occurs when you are of a certain age. Acceptable living spaces while one is college age are considerably lower than at any other time in your life. The same space you wouldn't have wanted to grow up in or reside in as an adult is perfectly adequate during this period. It's better than adequate, it's awesome. I will admit though, there is something strangely satisfying watching them turn their noses up at our obvious alarm, only to watch post-graduation as they aim higher and higher for suitable abodes.

Despite the fact I found the apartment small, somewhat smelly and well worn, I was careful not to be too negative. I think the only thing I uttered was, "It's kind of small." To which Evan, offended, said, "You never have anything good to say about where I live." I kept my mouth shut after that.

Later in the day we paid our annual homage to Wal-Mart to stock his kitchen and purchase those essential items he trashed over the past year. Arriving back at the new place, we encountered roommate number #3's mother. Now let me give you a little background. Roommate #2 is a long time friend of Evan's, whom we'd met on several occasions. All I knew about #3 was that he was from a wealthy family and would be providing most of the furniture. Really great furniture.

#3's mom's name is Vivian and she hails from Dallas, Texas. She had been in Lawrence for four days helping her son prepare for his move. She was APPALLED with the apartment and said so in no uncertain terms. The space was too small for three boys, it had an odor, it was filthy and finally, "What was all this stuff in here?" She was referring to Evan's and #2's miscellaneous items and furniture that wouldn't fit in their bedrooms. Vivian made it clear she had a truck arriving at 4:30 with much more desirable furnishings and these things simply must go. Roommate #2's response (when Vivian was out of hearing range) was "We don't need a !*#@ interior designer." He was insulted to say the least and left in a huff.

I should add that Evan has two pets- a dog and a cat. Both of which will be living in this small, cramped space with three guys and all their stuff. Both roommates are okay with this. As a matter of fact, Roommate #2 also has a cat- so make that three pets, three guys, one small, smelly apartment. So, given this scenario you can probably imagine Vivian's reaction. It took her a minute to notice the fact that I had a puppy on a leash. Her response, "Is that your dog?" "Uh, no, it's Evan's." "Is it going to live here?" "Yep." That's when she heard the meowing coming from the kennel in Evan's hand. Let's just say she wasn't happy and she left, just walked out the front door. I guess she needed to take a few deep breaths, or something.

This was all happening about this same time that Evan's landlord arrived with lunch! Now, how often does that happen? It seems Evan's landlord owns a local Chinese restaurant and promised the boys free food when they deliver their monthly rent. Now that's a pretty good incentive at the end of the month when money is tight and the refrigerator is empty. Needless, to say the scene was pure chaos- small space, mad mom, sweaty mom, three offended young men, two cats, one dog and an Asian guy delivering fried rice.

Evan and I hightailed it up to his room. We needed some distance from this chaotic situation. Vivian's son was clearly embarrassed and not happy about mom's controlling ways. Evan and I shut the door to his room and both rolled our eyes at the same time. I suggested we just stay put until things calmed down.

As is often the case, everything worked out in the end. Boys, I have found, are relatively laid back and none of them were too up in arms over Vivian's condemnation of their space or their personal things. Later I learned the furnishings really were very nice, probably way too nice for partying college boys. I also learned she chilled out and ended up being actually pretty friendly.

In the end, I looked like the cool mom by not expressing my disdain over the boy's choices. And that is always a good thing. I'm just happy move weekend is over. Driving home we thought we should probably just go ahead and put the date on our calendar for next year. I'm pretty sure we'll be heading that way again and will find ourselves moving him into an even more awesome abode.

VSL

Awkward Tech Moments

New advances in technology can prove extremely useful. It's interesting how you lived without certain services and can't imagine living without them today. They become integrated in your life. Things like email, voice mail, social network sites, the Internet, search engines, caller ID, access to hundreds of TV channels, etc. It wasn't that long ago we didn't carry phones with us everywhere. Growing up, my house had one phone, located in a central location. There was no caller ID, no call waiting. We couldn't even imagine the convenience of email and search engines. All these service are part and parcel of our day to day life now. We've adapted quickly and as new technology arrives, it's hard to keep up. Seems just when I accept and master one thing, something new comes along.

While we come to depend on and accept these services as part of our lives, they can present opportunities to screw up. I don't know how many stories I've heard where new technologies have put people in awkward situations, broken up relationships, caused work stress or were just flat embarrassing.

I still cringe when I remember the time I left a work related message on a client's voice mail and ended the call with "Amen!" It's nauseating to hang up and know you can't take it back. What's been done is done. Worse yet was the time I was in heavy city traffic leaving a message for a coworker when a semi almost sideswiped me. Forgetting I was still on the phone I said "Thanks Dumbshit" and then a split second later realized the phone was still to my ear and my expletive was included in my message. Thank God it was to a friendly coworker. Later when we listened to the message, she had so thoughtfully saved, you could clearly hear the expletive followed by the inhale of my breath as I realized what I had just done. This particular coworker found it so funny, she saved it and when she was having a bad day or someone else in the office needed a lift, she would play it for them!

A couple weeks ago a former coworker asked if I'd heard about the email another former coworker had sent to their boss. Apparently this person vents via email... emails she never intends to send. But... you guessed it, somehow she pushed send and off it went to her boss. In this email she spouted every issue (past and present) she had with him. Oops! I can only imagine the sick feeling that came over her when she realized what she had done. The aforementioned email was followed by an "I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to send that..." visit to his office. Her boss forgave her but won't soon forget.

One of the funniest stories I recall happened years ago, when answering machines were just becoming commonplace. Another past coworker had a crush on a supporter of the organization he worked for. She was married, he was not. Never would this young man consider hitting on her. She was just his fantasy. One day he left her a work related message at her home. He ended it with "Love You." Again... sick feeling in the pit of your stomach.

My oldest daughter learned her boyfriend of two years was seeing someone else. How? via this young woman's myspace page. She was alerted to the fact by a mutual friend. Checking it out she saw this young woman's relationship status was "in a relationship". Pretty painful to see who it was with and the pictures that were posted as further proof. In days past she would have eventually found out the old fashioned way- word of mouth or a confession from her BF. Seeing it written in black and white, with photos was painful to say the least.

Daughter number two recently had a really sweet message left on her phone by a stranger. Ali had been fruitlessly trying to connect with a local minister to schedule pre-marital counseling for her and her fiance. After no responses via email, she left a message on the women's phone, explaining her situation and what it was she needed. A couple days later Ali receives a message on her phone. "Hi, this is so and so. You left a message for a Rev. Wilson on my phone. I am not Rev. Wilson. You have the wrong number but I do want to tell you that I am glad you are doing pre-marital counseling!!!" Funny!

In our harried lives, filled with lists and deadlines and crazy multi-tasking, it's no wonder we push send when we shouldn't, leave crazy messages we can't take back or share pictures of betrayal. I know embarrassing social mistakes were made back in the day but the chances of them being forever recorded to a phone or a computer are just one of the drawbacks of the these high tech times.

Life's Little Ironies

This past October I had my first surgery. Not long before the procedure I had been thinking how lucky I was that I had reached middle age without any serious health concerns. Although my parents are very healthy, active seniors, they both had health scares in their 40's and I had surpassed them both. I think it is not unusual for your body to show signs of wear and tear in middle life and I was feeling fortunate. Then came the dreaded colonoscopy that revealed a very large polyp that couldn't be simply removed.

I remember waking from the procedure and in that fuzzy state hearing the doctor tell my husband surgery was required. At the time it didn't really register. I just wanted something to drink and to go back to sleep. When the reality hit I wasn't overly concerned. I had been told the polyp appeared to be benign and I held on to that.

Because this thing growing in me was slow growing, surgery didn't have to occur immediately. At the meeting with our surgeon I asked if it could be put off several months so as not to interfere with a month long work related trip to Kyrgyzstan. The surgeon felt that would be fine. I left that day and gave it very little thought. I am possessed with the ability to compartmentalize. In other words I can easily bury seriously worrisome things and live my life. On the other hand, I will admit to sweating the small stuff- those insignificant things that make you crazy on a daily basis. Like work, or house upkeep, finances or family obligations.

Now I need to share a little story about irony because if ever there was an ironic situation, this was it. And when I say that, for the most part, I can suppress worry about really scary stuff, I am telling the truth. Did I worry about the possibility of cancer, or the anesthesia not working, or serious complications? Well, maybe, a little bit, maybe subconsciously but not in any truly nerve wracking way. What did I worry about? ......the farting. Okay, I'm being serious here. You see my dad had the same surgery in his 60's and I clearly remember the post surgery uncontrollable tooting. It went on for some time. I remember the giggling behind his back and all the fart jokes. I was mortified.

Me? I don't really find farting all that funny. I don't even like the word fart. Yet I live with a man who finds it VERY funny and farts often, often unnecessarily. I don't know how many times I've said "Seriously, you're how old?" And my kids find it funny. My girls, in their 20's now, can be very earthy, particularly my oldest. She hoots over a good fart and isn't at all embarrassed to let one rip, even in front of her boyfriend.

My Book Club friends, particularly Mary, had a good laugh at my concerns. Mary has this amazing laugh, a loud guffaw that makes everyone smile. She was in agreement with the rest of my family- farts are funny. So, okay, okay I get that I'm a bit prudish when it comes to this topic. But seriously, I'm even a little embarrassed to be writing about farts. I DO NOT want to be that person who can't control her bodily functions and toots every time she gets up from her desk at work (in front of all her young co-workers) or every time she bends over. AND...I didn't want to wake from surgery to uncontrollable farting and my family laughing their asses off.

Okay, now here is where the irony comes in. My surgery went fine, the polyp was in fact benign and I was not in significant pain BUT, you guessed it- I couldn't pass gas- my ticket out of this place of torture and pain. Little did I know that all my years of repressing farts and sending dirty looks to my husband would come back to haunt me.

The expectation was I would be in the hospital for 3-5 days. I had my heart set on three. Unfortunately my body didn't allow that, bloating up like a beached whale. I looked about 7 months pregnant. On day three, post surgery, my gastrointestinal system still wasn't cooperating. The nurse would ask "Have you passed gas?" To which I would answer "Well, maybe a little." That wasn't true. I lied. Never had I wanted to feel the urge more and still no farting occurred.

At this point it was determined this build up of gunk bloating my belly needed to come out. Thus, the gastrointestinal tube was put in... while I was awake. Any of you who have woken from surgery with this tube already inserted knows that it is uncomfortable and causes a very painful sore throat. What you don't know, because you were under anesthesia is that it hurts like hell when inserted. A tube gets shoved up your nose, passed your sinuses and runs down your throat into your belly. It took the nurse three attempts, with me trying to shove her away and pleading with her to stop. I believe I let the f bomb fly more than once. Once inserted, the relief that it's over quickly disappears as you realize your throat is on fire.

The days passed and disgusting green stuff pumped from my stomach out this tube into a canister and still my body wouldn't cooperate. In the meantime, every day brought more injustices to my body- daily shots that burned, blood drawn in the middle of the night, medicines pumped in my IV that shot pain up my arm. I WANTED OUT. Please, please cooperate body. I was only supposed to be in here three days!!!

In the midst of all this, I wasn't allowed to eat. In preparation for the surgery, I couldn't eat the day before and post surgery I lived on ice chips. On day 9 my surgeon became concerned about my nutrition. She was considering inserting a feeding tube. It sounded abhorrent to me, it sounded painful and I was sick of painful procedures. I didn't care about my nutrition, I wasn't hungry anyway. I didn't care about my health. I just wanted to know if it would hurt. Her answer, "It's a little uncomfortable." Okay.... Now Hear This...when a doctor says it's uncomfortable it means it's going to hurt like hell. I was now an expert at doctor speak.

So, I begged for one more day and I prayed. I prayed my body would heal. I prayed the bloating would subside and yes, I prayed to fart. And around 11:00 that night something woke me up. I remember looking at the clock and hearing the whirring sound of machines around me. It was quiet and dark and as I came fully awake I knew something significant was happening. I felt a peace wash over me and just knew everything was okay. I felt the rise of my stomach and could feel that it had softened and was not as distended. I slipped back into sleep knowing my body had finally healed itself.

The next morning my nurse confirmed what I learned in the night. Later still, talking to my parents, I learned my dad slipped out of bed around that time and was praying for me. I was touched and thankful for his prayers and the confirmation that prayer works and small miracles do in fact happen.

In 24 hours I was eating again and released from the hospital. I am happy to say I did not become the butt of family jokes and have been able to control my bodily functions.

I learned a few good lessons as a result of my surgery. Nurses, like all of humans, can be kind or rather cruel. Pain is a given when you endure surgery. Hospitals can be scary in the middle of the night. Morphine makes you testy. The love and care of family and friends is crucial. It takes prayer to heal and... Farting can be a good thing.

(No Craig, this does not mean I think it's cute when you fart.)

VSL

For Better or Worse

Recently my mom shared a phone conversation she had with my Aunt Judy. Judy and her husband, Jack, live in West Virginia, and have throughout most of my life. Because it is a long distance we only saw each other on rare, special occasions. Throughout my childhood, those occasions typically took place in California where my grandparents lived and later in Arkansas where they retired. In my adult life I saw them when they came to see my parents, who live nearby. I always look forward to their visits. They are very dear to me.

Uncle Jack was head of the sociology department at the small private college where he taught. He was always full of energy; an avid jogger, hiker and swimmer. He and my Aunt Judy traveled often and enjoyed outdoor adventures. Well, let's just say he did and Aunt Judy, as the dutiful wife, went along. So it was surprising that shortly after retirement and only in his mid 60's, Uncle Jack's health began to fail. His legs kept giving out and his hearing began to go. At first it was a minor impairment but as time when on, and doctors were baffled, it became a burdensome thing. Burdensome for Jack, but also, very much so for my Aunt Judy.

Long distance trips to doctors, being home bound and Uncle Jack's constant demands are now what my Aunt Judy's life is made up of. In the phone conversation my mom had with Aunt Judy, she asked how things were. Aunt Judy replied "My life sucks." As my mom relayed this to me I got thinking how marriage and the roles and relationships in those marriages change over time.

Judy and Jack are not the only seniors I am close to who have had to take on the role of caregiver and disabled. I know of many couples whose end of life stage becomes pure drudgery- chronic illness for one and over the top care giving for the other. I saw my paternal grandmother sit by my grandfather's side every day in the nursing home. She did this for years. His death was a relief and a release for her. It was like she was a changed person and all the garbage from their marriage tumbled out. No longer saddled with her ailing husband, she traveled, joined clubs, enjoyed fashion and spent time with family. She shared stories, thoughts and feelings like never before. Freedom was a such a release for her. It was like she was allowed to live for the first time in her life.

My parent's neighbor cared for her Alzheimer stricken husband for a couple of years until she could no longer handle the responsibility. Once he was put in a nursing home, she left for weeks at a time visiting family and friends. Her weekdays are filled with lunches out, afternoon matinees and shopping. My mom rarely sees her anymore. Freedom never felt so good!!

Even closer are my in-laws. They live nearby and have had a wonderful marriage, filled with respect and affection. It's my mother-in-law who fell ill. She was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer's a couple years ago. We all saw the signs for several years prior to the official diagnosis. My father-in-law, Harold, is her sole caregiver. One son lives in the same town and helps out as needed. The other two sons, visit often and are willing to be there on a moment's notice. But the day-to-day grind falls to Harold. It's hard to watch the healthy dynamics of a marriage disintegrate, when in the end, this person you are caring for is not the person you married. Harold loves Marge and he will be there until the end but it isn't easy and I imagine each and every day feels like a chore.

As my daughter and I plan her wedding and I feel the excitement and anticipation just oozing from her, I contemplate how life changes and relationships change. You start out young and starry-eyed and, sadly, often end up bitter and disillusioned. The only options to this end of life scenario are that one spouse dies suddenly or both go at the same time- a rarity. The fact is, if you live a long full life; more than likely one of you will end up taking care of the other as their health declines. And, often, in the end, that person feels unimaginable frustration, oftentimes anger and resentment at being absolutely stuck in this position, through no choice of their own.

It's rather a depressing scenario and there is no real solution. No matter how you've cared for your body, no matter what your genetic history, no matter that you've never been sick a day in your life; in the end, most of us end up needing care. As my lovely neighbor Helen use to say, "Growing old ain't fun, girl."

I know it isn't and I hurt for my senior family members living through these tough times. I know the love is still there, it's just buried under the tasks of getting through each day. In the end, when the ill spouse is no longer with us; the memories of that person in their younger days will win out and those end memories will be forgotten. But, for those doing the care giving, it can be a long haul until then.