Throwing away seems to be a theme these days. It’s a theme
that I don’t understand. If you drive down the side streets into the
residential areas, you will see appliances set out on the curb for either the
trash man or a freebie seeker. These appliances may be out there because the
owners renovated their home or maybe because it has stopped working for some
reason or another. Whatever the reason, they’ve been discarded.
I have a fond admiration for the freebie seeker who will
pick up the unwanted appliance, take it home and work on it until it is a
productive piece of equipment again. In my day, things were repaired and/or repurposed.
My mother could repair almost anything except her car – she left that to Dad. I
remember her greased smudged face after she replaced the pump in the washing
machine. The point is – we didn’t throw things away when they didn’t work the
way they did when they were new.
I don’t work the same way as I did when I was new. I’m
slower and things I’ve always been able to do for myself are far more difficult
now. I fear I may wake up and find myself in the trash next to the coffee pot
that has a clock that doesn’t keep the right time. The pot still makes a good
cup of coffee, but the clock portion is no longer programmable. I’m a lot like
that coffee pot and I hope that the fact that it takes a bit longer for me to
make the coffee will not be of consequence. But I’ve already seen signs of
de-valuation. My opinion is no longer listened too with undistracted attention.
My suggestions are met with a sigh and roll of the eyes. I’m considered to be “old-fashioned”
and sometimes a bother.
When I read that a suggestion to “just get rid” of the
alcoholic in a person’s life, I feel it is another way that we simply “throw
things away.” In many cases, I believe the best course of action would be to
walk away from the alcoholic. But that is not to get rid of something useless,
but rather to encourage a change for the better for all parties. Just because
you don’t live with someone doesn’t mean you’ve put them in the trash can.
I have always been a bit of a hard-ass bitch that could
stand up to almost anyone. I seldom show my fear – if you see it in my face,
you should probably run for cover. With Riley remaining sober, even if it is
not by his own choice, I feel I may have softened a little. While I may have
wanted to “throw him away” many, many times during his drunkenness, I feel less
inclined in his present condition. It could be the fact that he knows he needs
me to help him manage his life so he is less antagonistic or it could be that
he is now taking Prozac. It doesn’t really matter. I think I see in him a
slight glimpse of the man I fell in love with back in the 60’s. The glimpses
are few and far between, but just enough to be a reminder.
Riley doesn’t work the way he did when our relationship was
new. He doesn’t have much to contribute towards any part of sharing a home or
being a husband. The truth is, that part of him was gone when he decided he
liked life better as a drunk than he did as a husband. I didn’t throw him away
even when I separated from him. I may not have been in his life on a daily
basis, but I was always there – in the background being silent and watching him
choose his own direction.
For the grandkids, Riley is disposable. In the kid’s
defense, Riley has made himself become disposable. He doesn’t participate in
family activities and is unable to have conversations beyond guttural noises
and heavy sighs. He cannot and does not want to relate to them. The result is
that the kids have thrown him away and moved on to focus on other family
members. I understand.
There are times when I feel sorry for Riley. I see this
physically debilitated man who can no longer remember what happened the day
before and must take several naps a day. He has no sense of smell and his
entire right side is weak and nearly useless. He doesn’t have the strength to
carry in the groceries or help me move boxes around the garage. He can’t drive.
His life is all contained in his room with re-runs of NCIS. I’m sad for him.
That’s where I’ve softened. In spite if it all, Riley still has value. He washes
the dishes and puts away the groceries. He cleans the bathroom. Since his
memory of the far distant past is better than his ability to remember what
happened yesterday, he shares memories of a better time over our morning
coffee. I will miss those things when he moves on to his next life.
Those soft episodes of emotion for him aren’t long lasting.
I take a step back to remind myself that Riley is in the condition he is in
because of his own doing. He created his situation and now must live with the
consequences. He denies that alcohol had anything to do with him having a
stroke or heart attack. He claims that alcohol isn’t the reason why he can’t
drive or live alone. It’s easy for me to go back to being my naturally bitchy
self.
Going through the boxes and sorting out the good from the
bad, useful from the useless and historical from individual memory… I know to
throw things away is not in my nature. It’s hard to make those determinations.
I’m not a hoarder, but I’m not a discarder either. I value what I have and see
worth where others see none. I can live with that.
