...because senior citizens deserve happy-ever-after endings too.
I'll Fly Away
Once upon a time, there was a woman who lived with her husband in his village in Manitoba.
She admired her husband for being determined, capable, clever.
He told her, "What is wrong with you?" and "Why can't you ever learn?" and "You make me so frustrated!" and "Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall!" and "You're so stu-pid!" Sometimes he would scream, "Stu-pid!"
At night, he would make room for her on his bed. When he required it, he expected her to please him. But when he was tired, he wanted to be left alone.
He wanted her to cook his meals, clean his house, mind his children.
If he needed a laugh, he laughed at her--all her many flaws. The time she burnt the roast. The many times she served supper late. How many times she'd lost her hairbrush, the car keys, her wallet. The appalling state she kept the house. How his poor children had to learn, too early, to fend for themselves because she wasn't capable. Oh how he would roar with laughter, "You're useless. I'm a saint for putting up with you all these years. Without me where would you be?"
And she knew where. She knew how much she needed him to do for her. And because she needed to she told herself that this reliance on him was love. She loved him. And he...? He kept her fed; he kept her clothed; he kept a roof over her head. This was a type of love. Wasn't it?
She pretended she was loved. She pretended she was happy. Year after year after year.
Until...
He had a stroke.
This was her chance for freedom. Other wives would have put him in assisted living. They would have walked away and no one would have blamed them.
She dreamed about doing just that. She dreamed about it but those dreams always turned into nightmares.
What would people think about her? What would people say?
She knew too well what they would say, "He put up with all her strange ways for years and now when he needs her, what does she do? She puts him into an institution."
That's what they would say and she couldn't have that. So she did what she always had done. She tried to live up to expectations. She tried to love him. And he... He was as demanding, as critical, as cruel, as he always had been. Nothing had changed. She continued to endure day after day. That was her life. It was the same life except that he wasn't nearly as clever or as capable as he had been. The stroke had robbed him, had left him dependent. It had left him dependent on her. She had to step up--for both their sakes. She had to step up but do it in a gentle, kind way. She couldn't, wouldn't make him feel small because she knew how that felt and she couldn't inflict that on anyone.
They lived like that until...
He died.
She was sad. She grieved. Of course, she did. All those years, she'd told herself she loved him and she had grown to believe it. And in his way, she knew he'd loved her too. Her life partner had died and part of her had died with him.
Now people told her, "You're seventy-years-old. Your life is over. They'll take care of you in the old folks home. That's where you belong."
But she knew they were wrong. She knew they were because she hadn't lived yet. And oh how she wanted to live.
She'd carried a secret within her for many years. It buoyed her up when she was so low down that she was dragging her belly on the floor. She dreamed of flight. She dreamed of spreading her wings and flying away. She dreamed of leaving the icy cold existence she'd endured in this place... In this place where she'd always let what everyone thought rule her. She dreamed about flying off to somewhere so warm, somewhere so beautiful. "I'm moving to BC," she started telling people.
But they told her, "Don't be silly. You can't do that. You'll be all alone. No one will know you there. Who will take care of you?"
But it was her dream and she wasn't going to let anyone take it from her. So at seventy years old, she did fly away. She flew all the way to BC.
Day by day, she learned what she could do by and for herself.
The people she met in BC told her, "You're so kind" and "You're so caring" and "You're so creative" and "You're so determined" and "I admire your positivity." They gave her compassion, acceptance, understanding. They empowered her.
And so she learned to love herself. And she lived happily ever after.
*Written on September 27, 2023
On this Blog in October...
