Cherie Dupuis

Today I spent time with my 25-year-old self. She was bright, affectionate and chattered away putting a Pollyanna varnish on all conversation. She was newly married and wanted her marriage to be Ward and June Cleaver perfect. She believed that perfection was possible. She was accomplishing that dream by denying any interaction that did not meet the cultural standard of perfect marriage. I wanted to hug her for her innocence and blindness. She had so much to learn.

It is now more than 50 years later. Marriage and life have both taught me to choose honesty over perfection. And I need those lessons now as things change with aging. Multiple illnesses have weakened my husband’s body and mind. He is not less because he can do less, but there are no cultural standards besides honesty to guide our relationship now.

I am taking on the everyday tasks he once did so beautifully. We are in the “in sickness” phase of “in sickness and in health” and nothing so demanding has ever been required of me. Our life is full of imperfection. But every day I say, “I am here for you. I will do my imperfect best. Here I am, as I am, doing my imperfect best.” And that feels enough for both of us.

Last year there was an image in the New York Times of a pilgrimage ritual from the time of the Second Temple of Jerusalem. Worshipers would climb the steps and process in a clockwise fashion. Those experiencing loss or pain would also enter but proceed to an inner circle traveling counterclockwise against the current. And each person in the clockwise circle would acknowledge the difficulty of the inner circle. I spoke of this practice in an earlier column when it was me offering support to a childhood friend dying of Lou Gehrig’s disease. I shared Sharon Brous’s reflection: “This practice speaks to what it means to be human in a world of pain. This year you walk the path of the anguished. Perhaps next year it will be me. I hold your broken heart knowing that one day you will hold mine.”

I am the one slowly traveling against the current now. I know this journey ends in loss. But I receive so much support from those traveling clockwise. I receive it from family as they hug me and feed me and delight me with wine-filled conversations on a world of fascinating topics. I receive it from friends as we laugh heartily or dig deeply into issues of living. I receive it from nature as it offers me breezes, flowers and birdsong. Of course, I realize this support is only available if I can allow myself to accept it.

I am no longer innocent nor blind. I know not to compare my life to others. I am learning that grief is part of love. I am learning to let go of what I think I deserve. I am learning that the deep companionship of a love life that has lasted decades is enough. My husband knows how limited his physical and mental abilities can be now and he goes out of his way to listen deeply to me and give his thoughts to the best of his ability. We tease and laugh. So I am telling you that life in the counterclockwise current can have pain, but can still be full and satisfying in no small part thanks to all of you who take the time to notice. And I now want to hug this older Cherie for meeting reality with patience and acceptance and a willingness to offer love to both of us as best she can.

Cherie Dupuis is a member of the Jottings Group (jottings33@gmail.com) at the Lake Oswego Adult Community Center.