Our lives have become so small. Sometimes I wake and lay there quietly, because I'm just not ready to get up and go to work. I need just a few more minutes to think my own thoughts before I find out if we are having a good day or a not-so-good day.
Yesterday at around 5:30 am, Bruce got up to use the bathroom. I noticed that his shuffling steps seemed heavier than usual, and his face wore an expression I have never seen. I asked him how he was feeling. He raised his eyes to me and mumbled “She’s dead”. Who is dead, I asked, and he dropped his eyes again as I heard him whisper... Tammy.
Everything inside my body seemed to harden into stone in that moment.
Sufferers of FTD lose their ability to feel empathy, but that does not mean that they can’t be sad. The profound sadness emanating from my sweet husband almost killed me in that moment, which would make him correct, I guess.
Nothing can prepare a wife for this.
I took him back to bed, and I held his face in my hands as I snuggled by his side, and I told him "I'm alive!" I am Tammy, and I love him, and will never leave him. I continued to reassure him, telling him about our wedding day, in great detail, until his breathing took on the even rhythm of sleep.
Still snuggled at his side, I thought about our lives together, and how happy he has made me. How am I going to make it through this roller coaster of emotion, loneliness and isolation.
The relentless darkness attempts to overtake me and pull me under,
threatening my promise to always be here for him.
Maybe an hour later, he woke up showing no trace of his earlier sadness. Ok, good day it is!! We take a short walk to the Clubhouse and sit in chairs in the breezeway, watching the colors of the Caribbean change and shift. We spot a sailboat on the horizon, either heading for Jamaica, or perhaps coming into our Bay to escape the wind and waves for a night or two.
I close my eyes and feel the breeze on my face.
I breathe in the familiar scent of the sea, and my heart seizes up again.
Memories threaten to break the carefully constructed dam I have built against them.
Those days are gone, and I can’t contemplate them right now.
Maybe someday.
I long for some consistency in my life. Something permanent. Something that will forever be the same that my mind can hold onto when I need grounding.
I almost got a tattoo once, many years ago. I am glad that I didn’t. I was going to get a hummingbird. I was into hummingbirds back then. I like them still, but not enough to have one on my… er, um… body forever.
Bruce is my other half. He is my Libra scale-mate. I am one side, and he is the other, and we are balanced. Together, our individual talents combined, making it possible for us to achieve our dream. That’s why we chose the Libra Scales as the graphic for our cruising home.
Dos Libras.
We were strong, adventurous and resilient.
Now we drift through the days like ghosts,
We are trapped between our past live, and what is to come.
The scales begin to tip as I carry more of the weight of Us.
I feel helpless, as I experience with him,
The growing distortion of his wavering mind.
We shift and slide like a reflection of what we once were,
As we slowly dissipate into the waters of the Caribbean.
I know he is still with me. I know that he will always be with me. He’s just different, as am I. We had a good run. We tossed off the dock lines, and lived the dream as so few ever do. We dropped anchor for the last time here in our Bay, and home is where you drop the anchor. But home is also where Bruce is. He is my heart’s anchor.
He is my strength and my permanence.
I know that the ripples will eventually disappear, but
We will always be Dos Libras.
And this, I will wear on my skin.
Forever.
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