Hey Deb, I love your writing! I've always enjoyed reading your poems and musings. You're a wonderful writer. As I reflect on my 53 year marriage. I see my life has gone back to when I was 11, and Mom and Dad took care of me. I was free to roam, bike wherever, walk all day, hang out with friends, just do whatever I wanted and know, I have the assurance of my parents. That was security. Now as I'm aging in the last third of my life, I'm still able to do whatever, as my husband holds the fort down, as I play bridge, pickleball, go the gym, have luncheons with friends and do whatever. That is acceptance. Aren't we blessed!
Thanks, Shelly! You are so right. Retirement truly has been a blessing, allowing us to do the things we love unrestrained and to be a kid again in so many ways. I'm glad you are enjoying yours as much as I am enjoying mine. So glad to see you here too. That means so much to me.
Oh, I forgot to add my joy ar seeing Carruth's poem.. It's been a while asince I'd read and it was a wonder to encounter it again. Just for the heck of it , may I offer this Carruth Poem?
Testament
by Hayden Carruth
So often has it been displayed to us, the hourglass
Yes! I love this poem. I found it after listening to George Saunders viral graduation speech, in which he quoted the lines "now I am almost entirely love." Such a beautiful sentiment, and way of being which I hope to emulate the older I grow.
Yes! That's where I first connected with it too . A year or two ago I wrote a blog piece on it because the idea of being "mostly love now" appealed so much to me.
Thanks for your great letter Deborah. It sure got me thinking, too. About marriage and friendship. I was also reminded of stories my mother used to tell, of growing up on a small diary and potato farm. And looking after the cows along the roadsides and lanes, ensuring they didn't cause an accident. They all had names. Growing up in a family with ten kids, I think she loved being alone with the cows.
What a lovely memory. I can picture your mother out there with her cows. I'd never thought of cows as beautiful and sad as Carruth put it, but now looking at them, they really are. Maybe it's how quiet and content they are that I love too. we al rush around so much trying to achieve things, and yet for these great beings, just being, is enough. Maybe it is for all of us, after all. Thanks so much for reading and responding to this post, Damian. It means a lot to me.
I'm happy to hear that T. Yes, there is something about solitude, a place where we find fullness of self. And I'm pleased to hear that Carruth's poem is a favorite of so many. Like minds find each other, thankfully.
Another lovely essay from you, Deborah, that made me think. Last night because I couldn’t sleep, I counted the men I had been in love with, and made lists in my mind of those who loved me and those I loved—or wanted. Counting lovers is hard if you take out the brief encounters, and it all got so confusing that I finally slept.
When I told my last husband, Bastiaan, that I always loved him but I wasn’t ‘in love’ with him anymore, he found someone else to be in love with him. Marriage over.
So I’m still in love with Stephen, the love of my life, who died 20 years ago in June. We go our separate ways but I feel him next to me or holding me in his arms some nights. My favorite nights nowadays.
Thanks for sharing that Barbara. I'm so sorry you lost the love of your life so long ago. I was very much "in love" with my husband those first few years, and then ten years in, it wasn't working for me anymore, and I almost left him. He wanted me to give him another chance, and I felt I owed that to him, even though I didn't think there was any way I'd fall back in love with him. But he did make a heroic effort and I did eventually grow to love him again. It wasn't the same as it was when I fell 'in love," and we still struggle from time to time to time. But we've fallen into a very comfortable groove that works for both of us and I'm glad stayed together. The love is still there. It's just different.
That's the thing about these vulnerable blog posts... I find myself reading my own truth in another post and I feel less alone. And sometimes I write my own truth and I wonder if other people have that same sense of connection. I used to be "in love" with my husband - we had a terrific maybe first 8 or 10 years (including the arrival of two children). Then we had some decent years b/c we were both focused on creating family and all that stuff. Then around 25 years in we had a terribly difficult painful stretch from which we never fully recovered. We worked with a couples guy for three years and things were better . But then we stopped working with him. and stuff just slipped away.
We are as you describe - two people living parallel lives. He is content. I long for a fully intimate relationship but am not willing to break up this 40+ years of marriage. Practically speaking it would be hard. Our children and grandchildren would feel it. There is no guarantee that anything else would evolve. So I look for all the ways I DO appreciate him. There is no meanness or disrespect. We are cordial roommates. Good enough, I guess. I have good friends. he never objuects to anything I want to do (with one exception- he has made it abundantly clear that he will not tolerate extramarital affairs - even though he knows he's being selfish. I still want physical intimacy. He does not but he's not willing to give me the freedom for that in my own life. I get the whole picture and I am (currently) choosing this.
I look for beauty and joy in the life that I have and I do find it everywhere. I put gratitude at the top of my agenda. I recognize that no life is perfect. What more is there?
Thanks for letting me vent. I hope I didn't go over the top but your post hit home for me. Thank you.
Thank you so much for sharing this, Gracie. It does help knowing others have similar situations and have made similar choices. I like how you put it, parallel lives. We do cross throughout the day and there is intimacy, but it's not like what I see in other marriages and sometimes I wish we had that. And then I think, do I really? Would a closer relationship take away from some of the personal pleasures and alone time that I enjoy so much?
When we were young, I was looking for a "soul mate" and when I realized he just isn't that, it was hard for awhile. I felt I was missing out. that "the one" was out there somewhere and maybe I should try to find him. Then I realized that all the things I was looking for in a soul-mate, all the things that I felt would complete me, were qualities I could develop myself, and was developing. I didn't need anyone else to be complete. That was a BIG revelation for me and a turning point. Like you, I see so much to love in him and about him, and much too I would change if I could. But I know he loves me and shows it in ways that I appreciate, and would sorely miss without him.
A funny story: My granddaughter wants us to move closer to her so we can see each other more often, but I told her I can't because Grandpa doesn't want to move, he loves our home. But, Grandma, she argues, you guys hardly see each other or talk, so you wouldn't miss him. So I try to explain that despite that I would miss him, and that I love him for all of that. She still doesn't get it, which I get. Her parents are super close, super chatty, and do everything together. I'm happy for them. But honestly, I wouldn't trade my life for theirs.
Yes, it has been a winding road.I thought we were perfect for each other back in the beginning and, at that time, I suspect we were. But people change and not always in the same direction. I wonder if that happens with most long term relationshiops? I do know people who still seem to "in love" with the other. IDK. What I do know is that I have a full life, satisfying in many ways, empty in other ways. I remain curious and open. Thanks for telling this part of your story. I rarely speak of my marriage in my own public writing and it took a bit of nerve for me to wirte that response yesterday. I appreciate the common experience and your way of managing life as it is.
Hey Deb, I love your writing! I've always enjoyed reading your poems and musings. You're a wonderful writer. As I reflect on my 53 year marriage. I see my life has gone back to when I was 11, and Mom and Dad took care of me. I was free to roam, bike wherever, walk all day, hang out with friends, just do whatever I wanted and know, I have the assurance of my parents. That was security. Now as I'm aging in the last third of my life, I'm still able to do whatever, as my husband holds the fort down, as I play bridge, pickleball, go the gym, have luncheons with friends and do whatever. That is acceptance. Aren't we blessed!
Thanks, Shelly! You are so right. Retirement truly has been a blessing, allowing us to do the things we love unrestrained and to be a kid again in so many ways. I'm glad you are enjoying yours as much as I am enjoying mine. So glad to see you here too. That means so much to me.
Oh, I forgot to add my joy ar seeing Carruth's poem.. It's been a while asince I'd read and it was a wonder to encounter it again. Just for the heck of it , may I offer this Carruth Poem?
Testament
by Hayden Carruth
So often has it been displayed to us, the hourglass
with its grains of sand drifting down,
not as an object in our world
but as a sign, a symbol, our lives
drifting down grain by grain,
sifting away – I’m sure everyone must
see this emblem somewhere in the mind.
Yet not only our lives drift down. The stuff
of ego with which we began, the mass
in the upper chamber, filters away
as love accumulates below. Now
I am almost entirely love. I have been
to the banker, the broker, those strange
people, to talk about unit trusts,
annuities, CDS, IRAS, trying
to leave you whatever I can after
I die. I’ve made my will, written
you a long letter of instructions.
I think about this continually.
What will you do? How
will you live? You can’t go back
to cocktail waitressing in the casino.
And your poetry? It will bring you
at best a pittance in our civilization,
a widow’s mite, as mine has
for forty-five years. Which is why
I leave you so little. Brokers?
Unit trusts? I’m no financier doing
the world’s great business. And the sands
in the upper glass grow few. Can I leave
you the vale of ten thousand trilliums
where we buried our good cat Pokey
across the lane to the quarry?
Maybe the tulips I planted under
the lilac tree? Or our red-bellied
woodpeckers who have given us so
much pleasure, and the rabbits
and the deer? And kisses And
love-makings? All our embracings?
I know millions of these will be still
unspent when the last grain of sand
falls with its whisper. its inconsequence,
on the mountain of my love below.
Yes! I love this poem. I found it after listening to George Saunders viral graduation speech, in which he quoted the lines "now I am almost entirely love." Such a beautiful sentiment, and way of being which I hope to emulate the older I grow.
Yes! That's where I first connected with it too . A year or two ago I wrote a blog piece on it because the idea of being "mostly love now" appealed so much to me.
Thanks for your great letter Deborah. It sure got me thinking, too. About marriage and friendship. I was also reminded of stories my mother used to tell, of growing up on a small diary and potato farm. And looking after the cows along the roadsides and lanes, ensuring they didn't cause an accident. They all had names. Growing up in a family with ten kids, I think she loved being alone with the cows.
What a lovely memory. I can picture your mother out there with her cows. I'd never thought of cows as beautiful and sad as Carruth put it, but now looking at them, they really are. Maybe it's how quiet and content they are that I love too. we al rush around so much trying to achieve things, and yet for these great beings, just being, is enough. Maybe it is for all of us, after all. Thanks so much for reading and responding to this post, Damian. It means a lot to me.
There's something about solitude—the fullness of the self, I feel, where you can hold yourself and know you'll be alright.
Thank you for the poem, it's one of my favourites by Carruth. And for your thoughts today, which I'm happy to have come across.
T.
I'm happy to hear that T. Yes, there is something about solitude, a place where we find fullness of self. And I'm pleased to hear that Carruth's poem is a favorite of so many. Like minds find each other, thankfully.
Another lovely essay from you, Deborah, that made me think. Last night because I couldn’t sleep, I counted the men I had been in love with, and made lists in my mind of those who loved me and those I loved—or wanted. Counting lovers is hard if you take out the brief encounters, and it all got so confusing that I finally slept.
When I told my last husband, Bastiaan, that I always loved him but I wasn’t ‘in love’ with him anymore, he found someone else to be in love with him. Marriage over.
So I’m still in love with Stephen, the love of my life, who died 20 years ago in June. We go our separate ways but I feel him next to me or holding me in his arms some nights. My favorite nights nowadays.
Be
Thanks for sharing that Barbara. I'm so sorry you lost the love of your life so long ago. I was very much "in love" with my husband those first few years, and then ten years in, it wasn't working for me anymore, and I almost left him. He wanted me to give him another chance, and I felt I owed that to him, even though I didn't think there was any way I'd fall back in love with him. But he did make a heroic effort and I did eventually grow to love him again. It wasn't the same as it was when I fell 'in love," and we still struggle from time to time to time. But we've fallen into a very comfortable groove that works for both of us and I'm glad stayed together. The love is still there. It's just different.
That's the thing about these vulnerable blog posts... I find myself reading my own truth in another post and I feel less alone. And sometimes I write my own truth and I wonder if other people have that same sense of connection. I used to be "in love" with my husband - we had a terrific maybe first 8 or 10 years (including the arrival of two children). Then we had some decent years b/c we were both focused on creating family and all that stuff. Then around 25 years in we had a terribly difficult painful stretch from which we never fully recovered. We worked with a couples guy for three years and things were better . But then we stopped working with him. and stuff just slipped away.
We are as you describe - two people living parallel lives. He is content. I long for a fully intimate relationship but am not willing to break up this 40+ years of marriage. Practically speaking it would be hard. Our children and grandchildren would feel it. There is no guarantee that anything else would evolve. So I look for all the ways I DO appreciate him. There is no meanness or disrespect. We are cordial roommates. Good enough, I guess. I have good friends. he never objuects to anything I want to do (with one exception- he has made it abundantly clear that he will not tolerate extramarital affairs - even though he knows he's being selfish. I still want physical intimacy. He does not but he's not willing to give me the freedom for that in my own life. I get the whole picture and I am (currently) choosing this.
I look for beauty and joy in the life that I have and I do find it everywhere. I put gratitude at the top of my agenda. I recognize that no life is perfect. What more is there?
Thanks for letting me vent. I hope I didn't go over the top but your post hit home for me. Thank you.
Thank you so much for sharing this, Gracie. It does help knowing others have similar situations and have made similar choices. I like how you put it, parallel lives. We do cross throughout the day and there is intimacy, but it's not like what I see in other marriages and sometimes I wish we had that. And then I think, do I really? Would a closer relationship take away from some of the personal pleasures and alone time that I enjoy so much?
When we were young, I was looking for a "soul mate" and when I realized he just isn't that, it was hard for awhile. I felt I was missing out. that "the one" was out there somewhere and maybe I should try to find him. Then I realized that all the things I was looking for in a soul-mate, all the things that I felt would complete me, were qualities I could develop myself, and was developing. I didn't need anyone else to be complete. That was a BIG revelation for me and a turning point. Like you, I see so much to love in him and about him, and much too I would change if I could. But I know he loves me and shows it in ways that I appreciate, and would sorely miss without him.
A funny story: My granddaughter wants us to move closer to her so we can see each other more often, but I told her I can't because Grandpa doesn't want to move, he loves our home. But, Grandma, she argues, you guys hardly see each other or talk, so you wouldn't miss him. So I try to explain that despite that I would miss him, and that I love him for all of that. She still doesn't get it, which I get. Her parents are super close, super chatty, and do everything together. I'm happy for them. But honestly, I wouldn't trade my life for theirs.
Yes, it has been a winding road.I thought we were perfect for each other back in the beginning and, at that time, I suspect we were. But people change and not always in the same direction. I wonder if that happens with most long term relationshiops? I do know people who still seem to "in love" with the other. IDK. What I do know is that I have a full life, satisfying in many ways, empty in other ways. I remain curious and open. Thanks for telling this part of your story. I rarely speak of my marriage in my own public writing and it took a bit of nerve for me to wirte that response yesterday. I appreciate the common experience and your way of managing life as it is.