Talking Heads and Letting Go
“And you may ask yourself How do I work this? And you may ask yourself Where is that large automobile? And you may tell yourself This is not my beautiful house And you may tell yourself This is not my beautiful wife
Letting the days go by Let the water hold me down Letting the days go by Water flowing underground Into the blue again After the money’s gone Once in a lifetime Water flowing underground
Same as it ever was… Same as it ever was… Same as it ever was…” by The Talking Heads
I am 48 years old. I was listening to this song a week or so ago. I love the tune. And I remembered it from my early adulthood. Today, I think David Byrne was probably Buddhist.
I see Buddhist themes: letting go, willingly drowning into reality, surprising subterranean nourishment, endless questioning of assumptions, and the ongoing ordinariness of real life. In his typically-80s over-the-top style, I see Byrne’s acceptance of all.
I am learning about infinite levels of letting go. Barry may need to have a biopsy done because his PSA is so high. He wants me to tell him what to do. I steadfastly refuse. Now I see him possibly willing to allow his sponsor to tell him what to do, which may include the biopsy and maybe chemo and radiation. He wants someone to tell him what to do.
I have worked very hard the past few years to make him comfortable. And now I am seeing him, probably afraid of death (like most humans), to make himself very uncomfortable to make someone else happy. It won’t be me. It is his doctor’s job to suggest a biopsy and it is Barry’s to say yea or nay. It makes me very sad to see him possibly choose a painful way to go. I don’t see him as strong enough to endure the treatments. He is frail.
Of course, none of this has actually happened yet. But I am preparing myself for likely possibilities. The other day, the morning after a blizzard, our satellite reception was still gone. I had recorded some shows from OWN, which he could watch. I put one on and asked if he wanted to watch it. His response? “If you do!” I said, “No. I am going to eat breakfast. What I want to know is whether or not you want the TV on.” The answer was affirmative, but I had to clarify the question and put the responsibility where it belonged—on him.
I am learning to let go of my overly-developed sense of responsibility. There are just some decisions people need to make on their own and that I hope others allow me to make in my final days. Regardless of my investment in Barry’s comfort, I have to let him choose the hard way, if that’s what he wants. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but, regardless, I have to let go.
Same as it ever was…Same as it ever was…