In my new life as caregiver, I have developed several routines. Friday is laundry day. In the “delicates” load was a pair of black panties and a black brazier. And then my mind wandered off into the weeds.

When we were much younger and it was early in our marriage, I let slip to her that black underwear was for me a big turn-on. Through out our younger lives she kept this in her heart. She would let it be known through certain hints, glimpses in the mirror or direct conversation that this was a good night for what she referred to as intimate time.

On various date nights or other occasions the clue phrase was “I am wearing black tonight”. Somehow the wine in the restaurant tasted better. The conversation was closer. I quit seeing the surrounding tables. I quit hearing the surrounding conversation. I guess pheromones intermingled with testosterone does that.

Sometimes I would initiate the contact. Is this a black night? No, she responded, I thought red would be more appropriate. Well it was! It is hard to go slow and stay with your partner when she is wearing black underwear. Much more so when she is wearing red. Holy cow, I miss those days.

I guess she does too. A couple days ago, I do not recall where we were off to, but I was pecking away at this computer and she, after finishing her shower, stood in the doorway of my home office wearing only the two items that were now in the load of laundry I am folding to put away. “I’m wearing these today”, she announced. My brain went spiraling off into the weeds. Holy cow I miss those days. Sorry. I am repeating myself.

Even now I am distracted by those thoughts. Our intimacies in many ways are much closer now even though less sexual in nature. Love is a lot of things. Only a small part is sexual.

It is hard to express how much closer this journey has made us. It is hard to express how this illness has opened my eyes to things in her that I did not notice before. I am more aware that my words can hinder her. I am more aware that my words can hurt her.

This is an eye-opening experience for me as well as her. I have taken on many of the domestic day-to-day tasks – laundry, cooking and others. We have hired out the cleaning to my niece who has her own cleaning service going. We moved into a condo situation so that lawn care and building maintenance is contracted. I am amused by the fact that I have become somewhat protective of my own methods and how easily I become annoyed when she or anyone else critiques my method.

She takes care of me as much as I take care of her. I miss the younger us. I miss the crazy running around chasing kids sporting events. I miss the, “I’m wearing black tonight.” And the opportunity to make more kids. But I really love her in this moment. I just hope I am able keep caring for her and I as fear for the worst outcome, and cannot fathom why my feeble brain goes there, I realize how deeply I love her.

The black underwear still looks good.

A break up between lovers a saddening, maddening mess
Talking without listening, hearing but unheard
Love let loose to fly without another word
to return from whence within the heart it
escaped to be kept in darkness for the next

A separation of friends a saddening maddening mess
Honesty without charity, unacceptance of uniqueness
Relationship neglected and abandoned with ease
relationship nurtured with love, kindness, empathy, vision
Glad hearts darkened by loneliness and isolation
the light saved for the next

A chronic illness is this maddening saddening mess
acceptance without explanation of symptomatic defeat
failure of love to respond without bias or as unrequited
to her needs without admonishment or regret
a deep need to engender her abilities though fewer
encouragement to succeed without overwhelming
assumption of control to rest for the next

Giving care and help is a gladdening heartening task
done by one for another and back again as the cared for
returns the care and kindness shown.
Love is this, to be shared among both 
or all for the next and this returned 
to take part in and part of the care and love

By Edie Kynard
02/22/20

Lord,as we face this day together, please help me to handle each moment with strength.

May my attitude be positive, my hands gentle when administering help and my heart full of compassion.

(Help me to understand that I do not know all the answers, that only she knows how and what she is feeling.

Teach me to be supportive when necessary, to be the explainer when asked, or to be the leader if called upon by her to do so, but instill in me the patience, wisdom and empathy to determine which of those is called for this time.)

Please lift me up when I am down, show me the humor in awkward situations and nudge me when I lack understanding. (Do not make your nudges subtle for I am male.)

Send me aha moments for us to grow through, messages from above for us to share and empathy so that I can step into his (her) shoes and readjust my attitude.

I’ve asked for a lot Lord, but the most important is my request for forgiveness when, in human error, I tread upon his (her) heart.

So please …keep my feet planted in solid faith so that I can sow seeds of kindness and not weeds of grumbling toward the many tasks at hand.

Fill me with wisdom so that when we walk this journey together we don’t get lost along the way.

In Your holy name, Amen

Men create religion. Spirituality comes from within.

Men make religion. Why is that? Religion of sport. Religion of work. Religion of God. Religion of politic. Religion of drink. Religion of food. Religion of country. A conscientious effort to pursue a topic to the penultimate.

Edie is a Facebook contributer to group directed towards caregivers supporting people who are dealing with Parkinson’s disease. She posted this prayer to the group a few days ago.

A Wife’s Prayer (in the life of a Caregiver) By:Edie Kynard 02/22/20

I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I am taking the spirit of this prayer with me. Many tasks. Easy to get lost. Helping Cheryl to deal with Parkinson’s forces me to look inside and reflect. And I wonder what purpose this disease has.

Perhaps a discovery of what love is and what it is not?

All of us have particular likes and dislikes. Certain comfort foods are associate with meals at certain times of day.

What about chocolate for breakfast?

And sometimes you have to cry. Sometimes you have to tease. Sometimes you grieve for a past life. You may remember it differently from what actually was but the nostalgia is real.

Or you could have chocolate for breakfast.

In the now in the present you keep pushing. Sometimes you laugh. There is joy if you look for it. You can look away to the past.

Or you could have chocolate for breakfast.

Favorite things, favorite foods, favorite places attract you to the old times. Do not disparage the old times. Do not despair of the present times. New things are new favorite things.

Like you could have chocolate for breakfast.

With love all things are possible or so it is said. Chronic disease in a loved one is an opportunity for a deeper love. A deeper truer attachment to one’s own self and the one you love.

It may turn out that you love chocolate for breakfast.

Good times are not all in the past. Good times are now. Merely time is required for the nostalgic longings. Can the circular thoughts coming with age and dreary-ness cause a view of one’s own rear?

And destroy the idea of chocolate for breakfast?

Or is the idea of chocolate for breakfast a metaphor for youth and vigor? Count Chocula a satisfactory conclusion? Or a new beginning. Of something precious. Of someone precocious

Enough to try chocolate for breakfast?

I truly do not want to learn how to sew, be a seamstress, or do other related crafts. I am male and in my 70’s. I do not need that. And yet I must.

That is silly attitude. When you have spent 50 years with someone occasionally you will disagree with her. When you love someone so deeply that you are willing to turn away from your own self-interest to take care of her during a chronic illness it is possible to smother her in the care-giving.

Learn how to sew. Just do it. Do not arrogantly display your new found skill set. You are the helper. You are the holder of pins. You are the threader of bobbins. You are the crimper of snaps. You know where to find interfacing in the fabric store. Be proud that you know what interfacing is! Do not imagine you are in charge of project scheduling. The illness’s symptoms will set the schedule. Relax. Enjoy the moment.

Lord have mercy! It is easy to have a fight when your lover, wife, partner, mother of your children, your rock, the person who shares your vision, the center of your universe is gifted with a chronic illness. Parkinson’s disease is not always debilitating but it can be and it can be so for the one who has it and the one is helping the one who has it. It can be exhausting.

In the morning she is way off. Movement is hard. Fingers are numb. She has finally fallen asleep after a restless night, when I get her up so she is not way off her medication schedule, she is angry with me and with herself. As the day progresses she improves but I have not moved out of care-giving mode. To her it becomes smothering. An argument ensues over who will cook dinner.

I have to give in. She cooks dinner. It is like old times when we were younger. She is and always was a good cook. Comfort food. I am more experimental which occasionally turns disastrous. I really miss the old times occasionally. But it is also good to enjoy the present.

Perhaps, just perhaps, I need to enjoy the moment.

Recently, I have been sorting through papers and other detritus left from my mother. She saved this prayer published in the newspaper many years ago.

It’s a very perceptive wish.

I have kept this card for several days now, most of a month. It is sad. Aunt Ruth passed from this world in March of 2019. She was the last of Joe and Adelaide Dwenger’s five children. Margaret, Virginia, Robert, Jean, Ruth was the last.

It is sad that Ruth died. I did not visit her during the last years of her life. Several times during the last years of Mom’s life I asked her if she wanted to talk to her sister. Ruth was in some sort assisted living arrangement in New Mexico at the time. Later she moved to Colorado near her daughter Susan. Mom was not interested. Not interested that day or ever — I am not sure what she meant when she said no.

Sad for a different reason. Some families scatter to the wind chasing jobs, ambitions, spouses and life. They lose touch with each other. There is in some cultures the thought that cousins and siblings have a built in friendship and closeness. Sadly this is not always true.

Some families have developed a disconnect, a nonchalant attitude toward connection. Some others developed a feeling akin to hatred early and split soon after. Some children lose connection with their parents and through that lose connection with their siblings. However it happens, they split and connection is gone.

Family ties are not as strong as many perceive. Perhaps if they were technology would not be as advanced as it is. Maybe there would be no Facebook, no Snapchat, no TicToc, no social media. Perhaps that would be a good thing. Or not.

What matters is how you feel [Scott Adams].

I suppose that is a fact. I tripped over this quote in a book I was reading. Writing this now it is amusing to me that the title of the book is not memorable. This quote is. The title and next line are the whole quote.

Feel has a double entendre here to me. Feel physically? What do you think about “it”? What are the facts? Why are they facts and not opinion? Such a conundrum.