Perplexed But Devoted
Estimated reading time: 14 minutes, 46 seconds
Abandonment?
Six months after the cancer diagnosis, I was beginning to feel comfortable as Jan’s caregiver. I had wrapped her in the blanket from her Soul Sisters, which had all their names inscribed. “Let me know if you need anything,” I asked as Jan rested on the loveseat while I finished the dishes. “Why don’t you ask Siri to play your playlist or a favorite artist?” Jan complied, and Joni Mitchell’s voice soon filled our tiny apartment.
I whispered thank you, Siri, for playing music that would soothe Jan’s soul.
Closing the dishwasher, I opened the pill box and selected the medicine she needed tonight. I walked over with a glass of water.
“I never thought I would be taking so many pills.”
“If you want to regain your health, the pills are unavoidable.”
She nodded her head and took the four pills one after the other.
“My love, what can I do to help you?”
She shook her head negatively as she handed me the glass.
“I want to be cancer free, and there is nothing more you can do to help me achieve that.”
As I returned the glass to the kitchen, I said, “I am ready, willing, and able to do whatever is required to help you.”
“Richard, you already do so much to help me; I am afraid you will hate me one day.” I started to speak, but she did not give me a chance.
“You are doing everything for me. You shop, cook, clean, and help me up the sta rs. You even made Matzo Brei better than I can,” Jan exclaimed. “I could not fight cancer without you. But I worry you are overwhelmed and will decide that I am too much to manage.”
She paused for a moment, and I shook my head and said, “I love you, and I always will.”
“I know you love me. Over the years, I have been mean to you and you never stopped loving me. But my cancer is an enormous burden that you are carrying on your shoulders. Many people leave their spouses when they are sick. I would understand if you wanted to leave me.”
Jan started weeping, and I tried to hold my tears inside my eyelids.
I knew what I wanted to say, but I was voiceless. I knew I would not deal with Jan’s comment about being mean to me as I had always ignored her claims.
I kneeled in front of Jan and kissed her lips.
Finally, I could form words and have them exit my mouth.
“I am not like some generic guy; I am your husband. I may not have said sickness and health when in my wedding vows, but I am here and will always be here for you. I am not going anywhere today, tomorrow, or ever.”
Jan smiled as tears flowed down her cheeks.
Between sobs, she repeated, “I love you! I love you!”
I embraced her and kissed the top of her head.
“I still remember when we met, and you kissed the top of my head. No one had ever kissed me there.”
“Yes, I remember that night. When I kissed you, I promised myself and God that I would love, honor, and cherish you throughout my life. I have kept that promise daily, and I am not changing my mind because you have cancer.”
“There is no way I could fight cancer without your love.”
I held her as tight as I could, and between mutual sobs, we kissed each other like we did the night we met.
After almost 48 years, I recently lost my wife, Jan Lilien. Like The Little Prince, Jan and I believed that “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.” This blog is a collection of my random thoughts on love, grief, life, and all things considered.
Excellent story…I never heard of any couple making almost the same salary!!
Funny and sad story, but I enjoyed it!!
Thanks, Hugo, for your comment.
Jan and I chose similar work focused on repairing the world. As a result, our salaries were both modest. That we ended with wages almost the same at the end is not all that surprising. If Jan had lived and continued to work at the YWCA for the last two years, her total compensation would have surpassed mine.
I agree that the story, like life, is humorous and sad simultaneously. I write from my heart, and the articles reflect the complexity of the lives Jan and I lived and how life is complicated.
The love that Jan and I shared will never die.
In closing I wanted to share share a poem from Evergreen by Kirsten Robinson. Her poems are a tribute to the enduring resilience of human nature as we cycle through times of light and darkness, much like nature itself.
Give thanks for all
that is good and beautiful;
the gifts you carry
people who lift you up
your big, big love
faith and trust that your life
is unfolding as it should
Give thanks for all
that has been difficult and hard;
trials tribulations tears
tests of self strength fears
all of the unknowns and days
that broke you
Without the darkness
you would not have
learned to appreciate the light
Thanks for your friendship and support.