The End

 I've been thinking a lot about the end. My end. I'm currently over in Sweden with my wife. The purpose of this visit was supposed to be to celebrate 20 years of marital bliss and see some of her family. A chance to take it easy for a while. That was the purpose until my wife's stepmother, Monica, suddenly passed away at the beginning of August. We had already purchased our plane tickets for the end of September and it would've been expensive to try to change the flights. Plus, I couldn't take off of work any earlier than we had already planned for. So, with my wife's halfsister's help, we arranged to have Monica cremated and then planned for the funeral to take place when we got to Sweden. 

Monica had no children, but my wife considers her more of a mom than her biological mom. Monica had cancer and we all knew she would never be cured of it, but she had been responding very well to treatments and we were both looking forward to spending some quality time with her this trip. And then, suddenly, her health took a nose dive and she died the day after our 20th wedding anniversary on August 12th. Monica left everything to my wife. And that means my wife is the executor of her estate too. So this trip has consisted of meeting with a lawyer, a realtor, and a funeral director as well as going through all of Monica's earthly possessions and deciding what we keep and what we leave behind. Whatever's left behind will be packed up and sold by a company that clears and cleans the property in preparation for selling it. For the past few days, my wife and her sister have been sorting through dishes, knick-knacks, clothes, records, books, pictures, and furniture. They're both exhausted from it at this point and I'm exhausted just watching them. But I'm also sad.

This house, and everything in it, represents all that tangibly remains of Monica.  And once we leave Sweden this time, this place - Monica's Place - will cease to exist. Monica led a full and active life and she has friends and family who will miss her dearly. Monica was a great person. I can't claim to know her all that well, but I do know she was kind and caring, smart and witty, and down-to-earth and practical. I know all this through my wife. But again, Monica is just a memory now in the hearts and minds of those who knew and loved her.  That's it. The end. 

It's been 16 years since I was last in Sweden with my wife. It doesn't seem that long on the surface, but as we're visiting her older relatives -who are now 16 years older- it's startlingly evident that 16 years is a long, long time. These old folks I remember from 16 years ago are now really, really old folks. A few, like my father-in-law, are in nursing homes and very near their end. My father-in-law's brother is also old and frail. He lives alone in the house he shared for decades with his wife. They specifically chose this one-level house in the suburbs as their place to grow old together. Only she's now in a nursing home as well. She has dementia and can't care for herself. And her husband is too old and frail himself to be of any help. So he sits alone in their wonderful home, passing his days away in from the TV. His sons drop by regularly to bring him food and to take him to see his wife in the nursing home. It's sad for me. Because 16 years ago, I visited the same people and there was commotion and laughter and kids and grandkids and big dinners. Now, there's none of that. Just an overwhelming feeling of loneliness and a bunch of much older folks who have very little left to look forward to other than the end. I imagine for some of them, it can't come soon enough. You can see it in their eyes. The same look I saw in my mother's eyes most days when I visited her in the nursing home. A life that had run out of purpose and a weary soul just hoping for some rest; hoping for the end.

I'm obviously much more in tune with all this now that I'm, in all likelihood, well past the midpoint of my life. I'm getting closer to the end. My end. That, in and of itself, does not scare me. The only thing that scares me is how the final chapter of my life will play out. I'm frightened I will suffer in loneliness and pain before I am finally able to take my final breath. Will my wife die before me? Will my kids stick me in a nursing home to wallow away my last days alone and confused? Scary stuff for me these days. 

The end.