At 62…Notes from Quarantine

I have now been alone since March 13. Over two months. My prior version of “alone” was a street parade compared to the reality of quarantine isolation. I wave at the neighbors, but nice long visits aren’t happening. I keep up with friends through Facebook and phone, but lunches and shopping trips and dinners are just happy memories. I see the renters in passing, wave at the UPS driver through the door, and stand six feet and masked from the repairmen. Gus and Gabriel are getting used to hearing me hold entire conversations with myself. Out loud.

Alone means no looking up, exchanging glances, and busting out into laughter when something tickles the both of you. Alone means no hugs, spontaneous or planned. Alone means not fixing dinner for the ones you love. Alone means no one to say, “Good morning, beautiful!” or “Good job, darlin!” Alone means no one to watch TV with, no one to sit on the porch and rock and talk with, no one to hold the ladder while you change the ceiling light. Alone is the loss of human interaction.

Mike frequently told me he didn’t understand how I could have lived alone for eight years before he came back into my life. Said he didn’t think he could have been that strong. I told him – as he well knew – you do what you have to do in this world.

My alone after Al died was filled with dinners and lunches with friends, time spent with Catlin, long driveway chats with the neighbors, travels for work and for pleasure, clients and work that I loved, renovating my house – I stayed busy. I was in my own familiar world, a world where I knew how to do everything in it. I worked through that long hell of grief and depression wrapped in the love of caring friends and family.

Alone after Mike was different than when I lost Al. Alone after Mike was the loss of the other half of me. It was the loss of his wealth of knowledge of how to make our country world work. It was the loss of our dreams. It was the loss of most of the people who Mike brought into our world. Alone after Michael was the end of the woman who was completely happy for maybe the first time in her life.

Many times over this last year, I’ve thought Mike was right. I’m not strong enough to be alone any more. I was way too happy flying along at the end of Mike’s kite-tail or holding his hand as I flew beside him. Mike packed so much living into each day. It’s a lot to live up to all by myself. And when I add the physical challenges of being some ten-odd years older and dealing with aging joints, this alone is even more daunting.

This past year, I’ve worked my way back from the edge of hell. And I was just ready to go for it again – I was starting to rebuild my business, rekindling friendships, working on the house, making travel plans, starting to want to really live again, not just go through the motions.

And then along came this damned virus that brought our world to a screeching halt.

I’ve done so much thinking these past two months, in this “real” alone. Mike used to say he’d study on something. That’s just what I’ve done. My head and sheets of paper are full of plans, lists, goals. A great many of them are Mike-driven. They are things I know nothing about, and I’m suddenly making lists as though I do. I thank Michael for that.

After over two months of isolation, it’s time to learn how to emerge into this both normal and scary new world. I don’t have to wait for life to return to pre-virus days to continue to rebuild. Life goes on. Some things, yes, they will have to wait awhile. But a lot of my plans can continue to turn into realities.

The world is out of my control. The infection pattern of this virus is out of my control. Whether other people wear masks and practice social distancing is out of my control. How people treat each other, the items they choose to post on social media, the choices others make, politics, the economy, the weather – all those and a million other pieces of the constant daily noise that can overwhelm us are out of my control.

But what I do with the 24 hours God gives me each morning, how I express the love I carry for those I hold dear, and how often I choose happiness – those things are completely within my control.

As I keep working to honor my husband, fulfilling some of our dreams that have now become my own, these are the thoughts that keep me going as I continue to learn and to grow.

Alone – at 62, and beyond.