Follow your dreams before you run out of time

Don’t hold back because you’re alone

I sat at the piano fighting tears this morning. I didn’t really know the man who died, although I knew his wife, who is active in our church. He died suddenly while they were driving to Washington to celebrate his mother’s 100^th birthday. Awful.

Every funeral brings back my own losses. The ceremony started with a bugler playing “Taps” and soldiers in dress uniforms slowly folding a giant flag into a triangle. They handed it to the widow, just as they handed a flag to me at my husband’s funeral and my brother at our dad’s funeral. It ended with a tearful son talking about his dad.

We sang the songs we usually sing. Father Joseph talked about Bob and about how life goes on in heaven. The church ladies hosted a reception in the hall. It was, as people always say, a beautiful service.

I had to lead the choir and find a sub for our leader/soloist because he went to the local hospital early this morning with a gall bladder attack. He is being transferred to a bigger hospital and will probably have surgery today.

You never know when life will throw you off a cliff or where you will land.

I’m back in my office typing at this computer for the first time in 23 days, having traveled approximately 5,000 miles alone from Oregon through Arizona, New Mexico and California.

The sun is shining on the fir trees that surround my yard, but part of me is still in the desert, in the city, and on the freeway. I’m sitting at a workshop in Tucson, listening to a girl sing and play guitar in the plaza in Old Town Albuquerque, fighting traffic in Los Angeles. I’m sitting in an auditorium listening to the famous poet Billy Collins. I’m in my cousin Adrienne’s living room in Tucson, and I’m getting hugs from my brother and his family in the green hills near Yosemite. It’s more than my mind can process.

But I did it, and I did it alone.

It was difficult coming home to an empty house, even though I’m glad to be back. For almost thirty years, with and without a husband, I had a dog waiting for me. We would roll around together in joy at being reunited. I would cry happy tears.

This place is too big without a canine companion. Now that my trip is done, I can start looking for a new dog who will be not just a pet but a friend and partner.

Friends question my plan to get another dog at my age. Should I be alone because I’m 73? I might live to 93 or 103. In case I don’t, I’ll make arrangements for the dog’s care. Why deny a dog and me the joy of being together for as long as we can?

Real life returns like a tidal wave. A funeral. A prescription to pick up. Mail to gather from the post office. I have bills to pay, clothes to wash, groceries to buy, and a speech to prepare for this Saturday. I have almost 400 unread emails and pages and pages of notes to turn into stories and poems. My hair is overgrown, my hip hurt big-time last night, and I’m not even going to write a to-list because I know I can’t do it all. I will do what’s necessary and let the rest go because life is short and unpredictable.

If there’s something you want to do in your life, go do it while you can. Stuff happens.

Meanwhile, I need to make myself some lunch because there’s no waitress showing up with a menu and a glass of iced tea. Fine by me. I know this place serves good food and gives free refills.

We have a lot to talk about in this solo life. Thank you for being here and for your terrific comments.

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If you’re on the Oregon coast, I will be speaking about my writing at the Waldport Public Library at 2 p.m. this Saturday. Admission is free.

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How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available now at your favorite bookseller. The Kindle price has just been reduced! Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.

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