Somewhere along the line … maybe it was with the beginning of quarantine? … Debbie and I have settled into a regular phone call, much like the regular weekly call that I have had with Marie for some years now. With Debbie it started as every two weeks. Then somewhere along the line it shifted to every week. It started with FaceTime, and then shifted to Zoom.
Even though we had already admitted that we still love each other, we made a point for months of doing the right thing. We might spend time staring into each other's eyes (over Zoom) if the conversation ran dry, but we were always careful to sign off with words like Good to talk to you, Be well, Till next time, or Sending you metta. Occasionally I stretched this, as I have done also with my emails, to saying Love and metta, but I'm careful to say it in a conversational way.
And then when we talked last night … well, let me explain the background. For some months, Debbie has been having trouble at work as her hours and function have been cut back. She understands the logic behind each decision, but her feelings have been hurt. I've been working to comfort her, and of course I'm coming from a place of having had the same thing happen to me only a year or two ago: not my hours, in that case, but my status and my potential for a bonus if we had a good year. (Note that 2020 has not been such a year.) Anyway, more recently her mother has started to show signs of confusion, the early stages of dementia. So finally this month Debbie took leave from work completely to go stay with her mother and try to stabilize her, until the family (Debbie and her sister) can arrange for a full-time caretaker. And of course this is a huge job, and has been taking a lot out of Debbie. Some days her mother is calm and as sweet as pie; then she can turn on a dime and start bellowing rage and fear and confusion, accusing Debbie of crazy things and demanding to be allowed to do other crazy things.
So last night Debbie and I talked after her mother had gone to bed. The battle yesterday was over whether her mother could go to the hairdresser.
Debbie explained that, because of COVID-19, she couldn't go.
Her mother said, Well I don't care if I get sick and die, because I'm so old anyway. So if I'm willing to take the risk, then why not?
Debbie tried to explain that it's not fair to make the hairdresser take the risk. Also she, as a nurse, has seen patients suffering from COVID-19, and it is a nasty way to go. So anyway, no, Mom, you can't go. I won't let you.
At that point her mother declared, If I can't go to the hairdresser then I'll just swallow all of my medications at once and kill myself!
This is what Debbie spent the day yesterday dealing with. So we spent much of our phone call talking about it. Fortunately Debbie is old enough, and has a solid-enough meditation practice, that she doesn't fly off the handle when her mother bursts out like that. But it's not easy, of course. Anyway, we talked.
And we talked about other things. There's a chance we might be able to see each other over the Christmas holiday, and go hiking. (God, I had better work on getting into better shape in the next … umm … two weeks!)
Finally, at the end of the call, Debbie ended with a simple, I love you.
Oh my God. We've gotten all the way back to I love you. I'm fine with it, but … wow.
I love you too, Debbie. Now and ever.
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