LOST:
balance eyesight comprehension
patience glasses joy
keys phone remote
travel in retirement driving ability sense of direction
crossword puzzles ability to tell analogue time
stamina wallet glasses
reading bike riding swimming
memory farmhouse freedom
glasses
ability to understand electronic gadgets
socks dialing a phone writing checks
talent in fixing or building wife's carefree spirit
electronic chargers playing sports shoes
magnifying glass hat gloves
spontaneous movement glasses vitality
confidence judgment career
everyone's phone number self determination
distinction between freezer and refrigerator
horsing around with grandkids
cribbage backgammon independence
directions for everything (can't read them anyway)
speed hiking trust in own abilities
operation of thermostat, oven, dishwasher
fluency words story telling.....
...his remarkably quick and lively mind.
* Fragment of a sentence in the memoir, "Out the Window" by Donald Hall
in The New Yorker Jan 23, 2012
I have to tell you..... this made me giggle. Keep in mind, I am no longer in the middle of the mayhem, so when I am not sad, I am able to look at this and find humor. You will. I promise. xoxo
ReplyDeleteSome days I can giggle, too, Cheryl. Yesterday we were both giggling as we discovered his shoes, which were on the wrong feet--again! It looked so comical..... Thanks for your promise. I'll hold onto that. ;o)
DeleteDo you know the poem by Elizabeth Bishop called One Art?
ReplyDeleteHere it is:
One Art
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.
Is "losing" an art? A sentence? A challenge? Depending on the day, the mood and the item missing, it could be any of those things, I find. I enjoy the progression from keys to heirlooms, houses, to continents in this poem. As the items become more central, more personal, more global--well, it's true, even they can be borne. Blithe statements which stop in their tracks with the contemplation of "losing you". I am sure our current losses are bearable--they are being borne--but like Bishop says, when it comes to our own loved ones, it can sometimes feel like disaster.... Thanks for sharing this poem, Barbara. ;o)
DeleteA few months ago I attended a lecture on Dementia. The first slide of the lecture was of a painting that was made by a patient who is retrospect would develop dementia. It was a colorful landscape with a young child playing by the water. Throughout the lecture, paintings of the same image done by this artist every few months were interwoven with the didactic information. Along with neurofibrillary tangles and Beta amaloidoisis there was blurring of the lines and fading images. The child disappeared . The last slide was an image that left the viewer straining to see something that was hidden behind a thick, gauzy fog. The audience was left with the agony of trying to discover something about the artist and her message though an impenetrable obliqueness. There are some things that words are not good at conveying.
ReplyDeletethis story is so evocative! no words to convey the feelings I have, either. Thanks, CB! ;o)
Delete