Inertia

That beautiful little celestially decorated insect was on my kitchen counter this morning. It wasn't moving and I presume it was dead. I've tried to identify it but can't. Do any of y'all know? 

It's been a rough day here for me and I haven't had to do a damn thing which is good because I have felt as if I couldn't do a damn thing and even took a small nap which I never do but I just had to go lay down and once down, I fell asleep. 

Glen and Tom went to Live Oak, which is about sixty or so miles from here where they looked at and Tom bought, a tiny house. It has everything he needs in it, already in place, and can be moved onto his property but he is far from thrilled. That nasty old trailer was his home for forty-three years and I guess that he loved it in that it was his home, not just a shelter. 
This whole situation has gotten me deeply disturbed. For one thing, I am not nearly as good a person as my husband is. I would probably have just left Tom to sit in that wrecked trailer as the rain poured down until he realized that it was no longer an option to shelter in it and was compelled to do something. This situation is so disturbing in so many ways, not the least of which is that Tom absolutely should not be living alone, much less alone in the woods. We could get the proper authorities involved who would force him into some sort of care-home situation because that's exactly what he needs but he would hate that so much that I can't even begin to tell you. And he would hate us. Which at this point, wouldn't bother me. I've known Tom for fifty years and he's always been eccentric and stubborn but since his illnesses he's become even more so. And his limitations are vast at this point. From mobility to speech, he is not doing well. To put it ridiculously mildly. 

But. What can you do? We feel like if Tom wants to continue living independently in the woods, then he should be allowed to do that. He can get to the store and he can fix simple meals and he can shower and he can attend to his own hygiene needs. But one more stroke and I doubt any of that will still be true. And if he has another stroke and/or a serious fall while he's alone and not close to the phone and can't get to or use his cell phone, it could be days until someone (Glen) realizes he hasn't heard from him. And that would not be a good way to die. 

I suppose all of this is making me face aging and mortality in a way that is quite real and not pretty. No one wants their last bit of time on earth to look like this. And yet, people hang on so tightly to whatever bit of life and independence and control they can manage to gather. It isn't graceful, it isn't holy, it isn't anything but cruel. 
Now I have seen deaths that were graceful and holy, but I know that this is not the way it always is. Probably not the way it usually is. 

And so I'm trying to be as compassionate and understanding here as I can be but I am mostly failing. I can cook meals for Tom and try to make him as comfortable here as I can but beyond that, I'm not doing much. Not for Tom, not for Glen, not for me. There were a million and one things I could have done here today and I didn't do any of them. 

I did start a pot of beans this morning and they're simmering. I picked the last of the edible kale. The little tiny zebra caterpillars have turned all the rest of it to barely-there lace. 

I think I can get the few that are on this salad's worth picked off and before you go and get all grossed out, let me remind you that if there are bugs on your food plants, it means there are no poisons there. 
How's that for rationalizing? 

The men got home a few minutes ago and have gone back over to Tom's to talk to the man who is going to let the tiny home be transported down his fire lane. I do have a fervent wish that Tom gets at least some time to enjoy a new place if that's even possible (his enjoyment, I mean) after so much work and worry has been put into it. He will have hot water. He will have AC and heating. He will have floors that are not in danger of falling through. I doubt he will ever use the AC but that's all right. It's there if he wants it. I think there's even a tiny laundry room. 

All will unfold as it does. I used to say that all will unfold as it should but I don't really think that way any more. I suppose it all depends on what our definition of "should" is. 

Love...Ms. Moon