Tomorrow is the first anniversary of the death of my friend J, who, along with his wife M, I loved so dearly over the many years of our friendship. M has been brave and wonderful all this first difficult year. We have been in constant contact, and will talk tomorrow.
Being married to a much older man, whose friends are of his vintage - and it was a good vintage too - and having lost two of my dearest friends in the last two years, my thoughts do turn to dying and death. They turn to the aged, too, and the quality of life when physical feebleness overcomes the spirit, and when mental powers fail, such as the short term memory, as with Dr P, or dementia, as with my older sister. Possibly because I have had several life threatening illnesses, and because I value honesty and realism over pretence and avoidance, I do not shrink from death and dying. I believe I can be both lovingly and practically helpful. Not in all cases, of course, but I am not afraid of the situation.
What I find more difficult is the frailty and feebleness, the deafness, and the forgetfulness, and , in Dr P's case, the inability to consider other people, and to be unselfish. And I wonder whether I can cope. Will I have the necessary strength, goodness and patience? I often doubt it. Will I have to abandon my interests and activities? Will I survive? What will my own old age be like?
None of us knows the answers to these questions, but they thrust themselves at me, each and every day and night.
