Honesty in Life and Death
The latest issue of Shambhala Sun has an interesting article by Rachel Neumann about a woman getting married. It was her husband’s idea. Her father even asked if he could use the word “marriage.” The couple grudgingly, but only at the end of the ceremony. The couple made no promises and then ran into the Pacific Ocean—“taking the plunge after taking the plunge.” The author/bride wanted the ceremony to acknowledge the impermanence of everything. “Marriage, from the little I’d seen, seemed a strange and false ritual: a public display of certainty about something that was by its nature private and transitory.” (p. 27, March 2015) Amen, sister.
This may sound stupid, but I’ll say it anyway. I am struggling with two things right now: life and death. Can anyone say, “Duuuuuuuh”? These are the universal concerns of all humanity. And I am struggling in particular with people’s/society’s total denial regarding them both.
For example, I need to call the long-term-care insurance people to see what I can get in terms of respite care. I want to work (or at least get out of the house) regularly during the week and I am not comfortable leaving Barry alone for extended regular periods of time. This is due to the fact that, first, he had cancer and was terminally ill and that, second, he lived through all of that and is still here. He will not be happy with me being gone, but I have put my life on hold for years now and I am getting beyond stir crazy.
Another example. I have a god sister that is turning sixty this year and is going back to school. So far, so good, right? Not so fast. When I mentioned that she might be working for the next umpteen years, she kid of chuckled like, “Uh. I don’t think so.” She has no husband, children, or pension. Social Security was never designed to be an elderly person’s sole income, let alone help that person pay off their mortgage. When it was invented, during the depression, many assumptions were in place. The elderly were expected to live with their children, men were assumed to have pensions, women were assumed to have husbands, and the property of the elderly was supposed to have been paid off, providing the receiving family of the elderly parents with some financial assistance to help take care of mom and dad. Veronica violates every single assumption. Will Social Security be sufficient for her to pay her mortgage, keep up with utilities, and feed her? I certainly do not assume so—but she clearly does. She needs to go to the Social Security Administration office and find out exactly what she will receive, not just assume that everything will be fine. It will break my heart if I find out, years from now after I have left Michigan, that she ended up homeless. Needless to say, she hasn’t purchased a cemetery plot for herself or anything like that. She is prepared for neither death nor life.
Rachel Neumann is wise. She understands the transitoriness of everything. She is also not 21 years old. She has already spent many years with the “man on the bus” that she recently married. She is honest with herself. Compare that with, say, myself. I was clueless in my early twenties, not to mention in a great deal of self-deception. I had no idea what I wanted, needed, or felt. I am only discovering these things now. What I do know is that if I had had even a shred of self-confidence back then, there is zero possibility I would have gotten married back then.
I think many young women (but not as many) today feel their options constrained today for similar reasons. Also, I believe that raging hormones encourage us to make commitments that we have no genuine way of knowing if they are even worth keeping. And then internalized religious/social oppression keeps us in these relationships (again, not as frequently as in the past). When cooler bodies prevail, fewer commitments are made, oddly enough.
Being honest with oneself is tough. Many people never are. I am still struggling to deal with the consequences of choices I made twenty-some years ago. I am in the process of purchasing my own (and Barry’s) grave marker. I am way more prepared for death than for life. Am I alone or in good company? I may never know.