Untethered

I was tethered for much of my life, with lots of things I had to do. It never bothered me, but I often looked forward to times when I had less responsibility- be it vacations, or when my kids were grown, or retirement.

Through graduate school there were lots of assignments, and most of my life after school- career, marriage and raising children- all brought responsibilities, due dates, places to be at certain times.

After my kids left home and I retired from work in 2019, I believed I finally reached a time when I could feel untethered, with a life guided by more freedom of choices.

That was true for a short time, and then the COVID pandemic emerged. Even within COVID restrictions, I felt I had many choices of activities, and the time in which to do them.  

But new responsibilities emerged when my husband Doug became ill. He had several chronic health conditions that worsened over the last two years of his life- dementia, pulmonary fibrosis and cardiac failure. I hired an aide who came five days a week, six hours a day, giving me a narrow window of freedom to choose what I wanted to do – like meet a friend, go shopping or to a museum- or sometimes just to close the door to my study and read.

I again felt tethered. Like Cinderella, there was a time by which I had to be home, at the end of the aide’s work shift. And I didn’t go out at night or on the two days when we had no aides. Fixing his meals, helping him dress, bringing him things he needed and taking him to doctors’ appointments all took time. I also carefully watched and assisted his movements around the house, to be mindful of his unsteady gait, and the tubing and equipment which brought him life-sustaining oxygen.

When I was home, we could watch TV, talk, and have some meals together. And in nice weather I would take him out on the Plaza that was outside our building, initially using his walker, then in a wheelchair. But he soon became too weak to leave the house.

And then he died.

The house became so quiet: no Doug, no aides, no constant whirring sound of the oxygen concentrator.

So now I am untethered. But it’s not what I anticipated.

When I come into my apartment there is total silence, that seems to reach out to enfold me. Sometimes when I am home I turn on the TV to add sound, I can always get a response from my google nest (she can even tell me jokes), and occasionally I talk to Doug or myself.  But I am acutely aware of being alone. And with my newly found freedom, finding the motivation to do things that interested me in the past can be difficult.

It’s only been a few months, and I miss having someone at home to tell about my day, to ask about theirs and even to ask me to do things for them. And I especially miss being able to talk to Doug, to share news about a neighbor or a grandchild with someone who has the same level of interest and concern.

I guess I have reached a stage where the tethers of my life have dropped away.

And I miss them.