much farther to go

i have much farther to go
i'm so confused i know
i should just kick my heels together and go home
but i lost my way when i lost you--Rosie Thomas

this past week, our newest resident--we'll call her agnes--and her family came for their first care conference, which is a quarterly meeting where we discuss the health and happiness of our residents. until she moved in, agnes lived at home with her husband, who cared for her. when agnes contracted pneumonia last month, it became clear that her husband would no longer be able to provide all the care she needs.

they've been married for 64 years.
that's roughly three of me.

and now, they can't be together anymore. i watched him as the doctors and nurses and social workers explained that she's safer and healthier at our facility. they told him how much better her quality of life is now that her time with her husband can be spent enjoying one another. they told him they understood how difficult the transition has been for him.

but i looked at him--at his weathered, compassionate face. his small lips and big eyes. i wondered if he and agnes were high school sweethearts. i wondered if he was ever in the military, fighting to keep her safe like so many other young men of his generation. i wondered how hard he worked to give his wife and daughters the type of life he thought they deserved. i wondered if they traveled much after he retired. i wondered about their first kiss.

and i thought: 'how could any of us possibly understand how difficult this is for him?'
he has fallen asleep next to her more nights than he ever has--or ever will--alone.
he has woken up beside her more mornings than he ever has--or ever will--alone.
how is he suddenly supposed to release what he has fought so hard to keep hold? because, no matter how melodramatic it sounds, it is a battle to make it through 64 years with your love intact. and theirs very clearly is. all he wants is to take her home. a large part of me feels that he is entitled to that. but as the staff gently told him it simply isn't possible, i swear i saw his heart break in two.

and, for her part, agnes was able to comfort him in a small way, but she has dementia, so she isn't able to fully grasp the pain her husband is enduring. she isn't even capable of experiencing her own sadness at their separation. and while that is arguably a blessing for agnes, it means her husband is truly alone--for the first time in 64 years.

and then, my thoughts turned to my own grandparents.
to my own grandfather, who is caring for his high school sweetheart of 64+ years.
she is slipping away from him now, but she still wakes up and falls asleep right next to him.
and i swear, she still lights up when he enters a room.
and he still gives her reasons to.

when you see people like agnes and her husband, or like my own grammy and papa, it's impossible to deny the necessity of togetherness. of connection. of the sweetest type of community.
when i get my chance, it's going to be like that.