Inspirational,  Non-Fiction

Dark Before Our Dawn

Last week, I didn’t have a thing to say here. It was a dark week and love compelled me to get to work heading problems off at the pass. It began when my husband Jim wanted to “have a talk” as we sat drinking coffee on the patio early one morning. A pit formed in my stomach and it ended up being accurate intuition on my part.

He said, “I’m on an island and I’m drowning. I need to do something.”

When he can string words together to convey his thoughts, it’s a good day. And after being together 41 years, I can often fill in the blanks when I need to. It means Alzheimers hasn’t totally robbed him of communication (http://the-sun-singer). I knew what he meant. He is bored. He wants to be hiking or riding bikes. 24/7. Once or twice a week makes me happy.

When I retired the end of May, I still looked at this summer as the typical teacher break: doing what I wanted, when I wanted, with a little traveling and hiking/biking thrown in here and there. In other words, I took it too easy and became lazy. I must say I was a little depressed my life had changed so drastically. Plus, temperatures in the 90s and humidity that equals it makes me lethargic. Jim is never phased by heat. What? The temperature is 103 and the humidity is 99%? He shrugs and rolls his eyes.

I was in denial Jim could be severely depressed. Those closest to us said they’d seen recent changes in his demeanor. My always-happy husband had lost the twinkle in his eyes. We were at the juncture of a crisis. Was it the insidious disease, wrapping more tentacles around precious brain cells or could something else be done?

I had to decide on a plan, quickly. 11 o’clock the morning he declared he was drowning, I swallowed my stubbornness. It was already humid and the temperature was quickly reaching 95.

“Get your backpack ready and let’s load the bikes.” I expected to see a glimmer of excitement. My immediate plan was to get those endorphins flowing.

We rode seven sweltering miles on the Tunnel Hill Trail to Buckethead’s and had our usual chicken salad on toast. I looked for a smile; any evidence one of his favorite activities was just what he needed. The ride back with the sun beating directly on the path between the rows of trees on either side of us didn’t result in anything more than me becoming sick and overheated as we arrived back at the truck. I swore I’d never ride in that heat again.

Back home, I decided on a more grandiose plan. We would trade in my beloved Subaru Forester for something that would haul a camper and we would hit the road. Find cooler temperatures and lots of hiking trails. Never mind I had never towed anything. We were tent people from way back. Heck, we spent a lifetime making fun of those Winnebago people who called plugging into utilities surrounded by a hundred others doing the same thing, “camping”.

Fast forward to this week, and the excitement is rising as I spent four days researching vehicles and campers and went out and bought one of each. I even talked the RV guy into installing their best bike rake on the back as a gift. Call me a lunatic, but I am desperate to have my husband happy and “back” as much as possible. And of course, our doctor performed a complete physical on Jim and tweaked his anti-depressant. I already see the positive change!

My sister is afraid of me driving a bigger rig than I am used to across the country, so I’m going to leave all the worrying to her. I am not going to. Even though I never dreamed of nor wanted to pull something larger than a backpack around to travel with, here I am. The tow package gets put on the Subaru Ascent Premium, which tows 5,000 lbs., tomorrow and the baby 3,000 lb. Forest River Wildwood FSX camper will be ready to pick up the next day.

Right away, we will be giving these two a test run to Minnesota as we celebrate our 2-year-old grandson Greyson’s birthday and finally meet our brand new grandson, Tatum. As we take extra time to explore my old college stomping grounds along Lake Superior and Northern Minnesota, we’re really being super responsible old people. Since we will be in the same state, our oldest son can rush to us in an emergency just as his parents did when he totaled his first car or broke his nose or . . . paybacks, ya know?

Old and new friends are loved and necessary; your prayers are appreciated on our new journey. Our dear friend Patrick summed it up best: “Get out there and have an adventure; see where the road takes you. ‘Climb the goddamn mountain,’ as Jack Kerouac said. No adventure is an adventure if you stay in your comfort zone. You two have practiced all your life for this.” Yes. Yes, we have.

A shout out to an integral part of our new travel family: it wouldn’t be possible without you, Connie at https://www.marionsubaru.com/ and Jake at https://www.blackdiamondrv.com/.

14 Comments

  • Dianne

    Love this new adventures r beginning. May God watch over u every mile I & milestone. Bless ur heart. Wishing u the best my dear sweet friend.

  • Anonymous

    Thanks for having rhe courage to share this experience. It is important for you and for those of us who love you and will help others as they find themselves walking down this path. You are an amazing woman and I am so thankful for the times we spent together in our formative years. Jim was one of the few people who seemed to always understand me when I blurted out a random thought. He was like my interpreter. Connections like that are rare and precious. Though time, distance and life separated us we will always have those bonds that bind us. Safe travels. Love…Hoecker.

    • admin

      What a beautiful post! I am so glad you have that view. I think some think I share too much sometimes, thus this particular post was more sugar-coated, believe it or not. Whew, those were most definitely formative years. Jim has always had that effect on others. I love how you put it. No, it doesn’t matter how long we were separated, our connections will ALWAYS be rare and precious. I’m just so glad we have reconnected. Thank you for loving us. We love you too, brother.

  • Lynda Killoran

    Thanks for sharing your story. Alzheimers runs in my family, so this immediately brings you and your family closer to my heart.
    Go enjoy the gift of life as long, strong and intense as you can. ❤

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