GRIEF: A PROCESS

WIFE DIED

My wife Ruth died at 5:05 in the morning on Tuesday, August 29, 2006 of respiratory failure. She had terrible cancer at the end but had had heart failure for almost four years, and I believe it was the heart failure that finally filled her lungs with water. My son Joe was with her at the end. She called out twice, he held her hand, and that was it.

She was 90% of my reason for living, so it's going to be tough to continue; I have so little will to live left. But I shall take it a day at a time, believing that it will gradually get better.It has been a full year since my wife Ruth died, and suddenly I have begun working on my writing again.

The grieving must be physiological as well as mental and emotional, for why would it be exactly a year, as many cultures predict? For example, the Jews wait until after a full year of mourning before erecting a headstone; in many societies the woman is required to wear black for a year; and it is recommended that the bereaved one does not remarry until a year has passed.

I had faith that I would write again, and just waited patiently for the time to come. I was willing to accept the fact that I might never write again; for every time I tried, the will, the motivation, and the ability were not there. Thank God I feel whole again.

The above statement proved to be false. It wasn't until the weekend of Feb. 24, 2008, that I finally was able to add four pages to my mss. of John Adams. I hope, this time, it was not a hoax. I expect this weekend following to be able to write. We'll see.

One thing I'd like to mention in connection with Ruth's death: the absolute absence of fear. In fact, she almost embraced death. And she, like myself, had no expectation of an after-life (in facts that is one of the sillier aspects of many religions, and an obvious reason, or one of the reasons, for their invention).

In pondering her fearless dying, over four years of heart failure, with the addition of cancer of the tongue and jaw her last 6 months, I have come to the conclusion that it is the ego that is afraid to die. Ruth had low ego and high self-esteem. We made a good match because I was just the reverse. Fortunately, as my ego came down and my self-esteem rose (not too much in both cases), her ego rose and her self-esteem dipped a little (but not too much).

Socrates said, "If you would discourse with me, define your terms." So let me define mine. As I have used them, ego is what we think of ourselves; self-esteem is how we feel about ourselves. To put it in more vulgar terminology, what I sometimes tell others is that, when younger, "I thought I was hot shit, but I felt like plain shit."

Socrates also said something about death before he drank the hemlock. There were a number of his friends in his cell that night. All had wanted him to escape; in fact, everyone wanted him to escape, even most of those who had condemned him to death for corrupting the youth (i.e., teaching them about false gods. I, by the way, believe in the same God). When his friends asked him if he weren’t afraid to die, his response was: If there is life after death, what’s to fear? If there’s no life after death, what’s to fear. Who can argue with that? What the ego fears, of course, is oblivion.

There were three death scenes before Ruth finally died. The first occurred three weeks before her death. It was one o’clock in the morning, and the children had all gone to bed. She was sitting in her chair and I was sitting beside her. Suddenly she said she thought this was it. She closed her eyes and we held hands tightly. It lasted about five minutes. Suddenly, whatever it was, it was gone. She looked at me and smiled.

The second time it happened was about eleven at night, and there children were all standing about her. The same thing happened, only this time it must have lasted for about ten minutes while we all stood there in silence, watching. Suddenly she opened her eyes, smiled, and said, “I have to pee.” It was over.

The third time, in the hospital, I have already described. She did, however, have a brief stroke at some point during the last few months of her dying. Again it was late at night and she was in her chair. I was at the kitchen sink, when suddenly she said, “I can’t move my arm. I’m telling it to move, but it doesn’t move.” It was a curious sensation to her, not something frightening. It lasted less than a minute, and by the time I got to her it was gone.

Ruth, by the way, donated her body to the Medical School at Stony Brook University, and I have done the same. Her ashes were returned in April of 2007,, and they now sit on a low bookcase outside what was her bedroom. I am thinking of buying an urn for them.

Actually, I bought two small urns. One I filled with her ashes and gave to daughter Barbara. The other I put in a small urn which I have on the bookshelf where I sit and read.I now would like to add a postscript to the events so far related.

First, I was in heat until the grieving ended, and from the 10th to 12th month of that first year it was quite intense, like an animal in rut. I’ve heard about this sort of thing happening, and believe it is nature’s way of bringing us back to living, and also finding comfort.

Other than that, I was emotionally numb for the 2 years and 2-3 months I grieved. I was also depressed, which I didn’t really notice until I came out of it and started writing again. I believe her death aged me about six months, plus another 3 months in the second year from the middle of June to the middle of September, when I was aware of a rapid aging.

The doctor, by the way, put me on sertraline at her death, and has continued it, at my request, for the reason that aging itself can have its moments of depression. Gradually, after the grieving ended, my feelings began to come back. For the first I felt loneliness. Just a touch at the start, it has been growing. The truth is, I need the intimacy of a woman, and, finally, this third year after her death, I have begun to feel the need love a woman again. But at my age that is not likely to happen.

TIME/ENERGY

I've concluded that we live in an energy/time continuum, similar to the space/time continuum of relativity. The more energy you have, the more time you have. One of the reasons for this is that we measure time by movement, and the more energy the more movement.

Children, for example, have boundless energy, and time, therefore, moves slowly. Do you remember how, as a child, time seemed to be endless? Those two hours or so after school seemed like endless playtime; and when you were called in to supper, you had been playing forever.

Old folks like myself, on the other hand, have boundless fatigue. Because there is so little energy, and therefore so little movement, time speeds up. It speeds up as we get older, passing faster and faster as our energy gradually depletes. There is, of course, also the psychological factor:

With more time behind us, we take the longer view, so that the present seems less and less by comparison to the lengthening past. It is interesting how time and space shrink. To look back to the time of Christ, for instance, and be able to vizualize how few generations ago that was. I read in estimate recently that all of human history is only 5,000 generations. We, who have lived 50 or more years (in my case, 85) gain more and more perspective.

Everything seems so much smaller (the earth especially), and we (I am) are amazed at how far we have developed as a species. Is it any wonder that we are still savages, with all their traits? Only social development (which depends upon individual development) will unltimately make wars less probable, initially through a world federation of some kind.

To control violence, the savage in us, it will be many eons beyond that before it will have lost any possible evolutionary value it might have had. One of the problems with the Middle East is that they are still so tribal, and haven't yet evolved beyond that. Anyhow, that's just a few thoughts on this matter.The awful thing about death is its finality; the awful thing about aging is its inexorability.

RANDOM THOUGHTS

ABOUT THE JEWS

I find it interesting that the three men who had the greatest ideological impact on the 20th century were Jews. Sigmund Freud caused a profound shift in the way we view our inner world; Albert Einstein caused a profound shift in the way we view the universe; Karl Marx caused a profound shift in the way we view our governmental structures.

I very much admire the way the Jews stress education, learning, thinking, and communication skills. If only the rest of us did the same, we would be living in a much better world. It's interesting, too, I think, that all three of these men were Germans who were forced to leave their own country to fully develop their ideas and, of course, their lives.

Also, and this is very important, they were all apostate Jews, freethinkers, who none of them believed in God. Religion has tried to claim Einstein as a believer because of his use of the word God. Though his view of God would hardly pass muster in any of the world's key religions.

RELIGION

RELIGION

Most of us are familiar, I'm sure, with the quotation of Karl Marx that religion "is the opium of the people," which I think is true enough; but the sentence that follows it is, perhaps, even more significant: "The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is required for their real happiness." Karl Marx, Contribution to the Critique of Hegel's Philosophy of Right, Introduction

MORALITY

"The recognition of the identity of our own nature with that of others is the beginning and foundation of all true morality." - Arthur Schopenhauer, The Wisdom of Life (from the translater's preface)

COURAGE

"There is always a parenthesis of fear in courage." Grapevine, April 1977