One of the greatest rock and roll songs ever written is “Angie” by the Rolling Stones. I listened to that very song this morning as I traveled to work. I couldn’t help but wonder if I will be listening to that song when my wardrobe consists of flowery nighties, pajamas, and crocheted booties. Will I still love listening to Jagger’s broken, tearful voice spilling his love at Angie’s feet? Will I still close my eyes and slip into the lyrics, imagining myself the object of this pensive, enduring love? I hope so.
I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, skipping my way into the age of 60 without some apprehension and fear. It is said that today’s 60 is yesterday’s 40.
The human lifespan now extends often into the mid-90s. Many of these precious older folks live in assisted living centers quite comfortably; relinquishing all of the difficult work of a lifetime as they move forward and into the winter of their remaining time on this planet. They do not dwell upon the steel gray hair, aching and twisted joints, memory transformations, shaky limbs, vision changes or hearing loss. They cling to the richness of the here and now, rather than the surety of death.
I arrive at my destination, sit back in my car seat and close my eyes. I see her there, sitting kitty-corner in a green velour recliner, a silver magnified floor lamp leaning over her shoulder. The book she has been reading lies open; edging toward the tip of her fleece covered knees, threatening to fall onto the busy patterned rug beneath her furry slippers. Her hair, now cut short, has become a faded shade of pink; its once coppery hue now a distant memory.
All of the nurses who attend to her can assure you she can be quite a handful when things do not go her way. She can be stubborn, often demanding to simply be left alone. She prefers napping in her recliner to sleeping in her bed and there are days when she refuses to eat. In her top dresser drawer, there is a laminated letter for all to read.
“To Whom It May Concern;
The woman you see before you has lived a wonderful life, filled with adventure, passion and love. She is so much more than the disgruntled, physically restricted old lady sitting in this room. She is someone’s wife, daughter, sister, and friend. She loves to read. She loves music. From time to time, she has been known to pick up her pen and write. She asks only that you see beyond her present state, for this is but a small snapshot of her life and her legacy.
Please remind her from time to time just who she truly is. You may decide to read to her, and a few lines from her favorite book, “To Kill A Mockingbird” will do just fine. You may encourage her to listen to music from Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Joni Mitchell. She adores the color blue, all things that sparkle, and in her day she was quite the fashionista!
But most importantly, will you speak to her of those she has loved? Her husband, her parents, her sister, her dear friends, her coworkers, and of course, her beloved dogs. As she ventures toward the end of her journey, please do not rob her of her dignity. I assure you, there is no greater kindness you can offer.”
I lingered for just a moment, savoring the end of that Rolling Stones song before gathering my things and walking to my office, where I would remain all day. I glanced down at my neon blue, diamond studded lunch box and smiled. I decided I would spend the first few minutes of lunch enjoying my chicken salad sandwich.
And as for the remainder of my break? It was time to write that letter.
Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives in Connor with her husband, Dale, and their Goldendoodle, Barney Rubble. You may contact Belinda online at dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
