Lilington

Ro and Michael

Ro is now 83 and Michael is one month shy of 90.  Michael spends much of his day curled up around the Aga in the tiny kitchen.  He looks like an ancient retainer from Victorian times.  I believe that Ro spends much of her time with him chatting and trying to orient herself.

Ro has lost much of her short term memory and goes to Michael for clarification.  He is infinitely patient and kind.  Over and over she asks the same question and over and over he answers.

We live in a bubble most of the time; a custom made bubble just for us.  Seeing them, I realized how time has passed, their life force has weakened.  We are all old now.

I love them.  I love the way they live, quietly in the country watching the seasons from their windows, watching the birds, and the days wander past, slowing down.  When I kissed Michael goodbye we decided we would probably not see each other again.  I kissed and hugged him and told him that I love him.

I worry what will become of Ro when Michael dies.  One morning, he didn’t get downstairs until later in the morning and I worried he had died in his bed.  Ro was worried too and went up to check.  All was well, but I shudder to think about Ro all alone in that house with Michael gone.

Had a terrific storm for a day and a night and as I watched the rain being blown sideways up into the rolling pastures surrounding their house, I reveled in the intensity of the wind. (60-80 mph).  Intensity outside of the house and a diminution inside; shrieking and howling outside and sitting silently by the stove inside.

I love the wildness of a storm and usually hate the calm and quiet, but in Lilington this time, I found comfort.  We sat, we talked, we told stories, Rob and Ro sang some old songs together.  It is okay to be peaceful in a storm.  It is okay facing loss, to just accept it as given.  We will all be lost.  The wind will keep blowing and the birds, oh those glorious birds will eat the seed and the suet until there is no one left to fill the feeders.