Ten years ago this week my sister called to let me know it was time to return to Texas to help care for my father as he faced an inevitable end from a 2009 back-to-back diagnosis of Alzheimer’s and prostate cancer. Both conditions typically progress slowly and unpredictably, so we made a long term decision that as long as he was “aware” within his Alzheimer’s, I would maintain constant contact, and continue my life and career in New York City (a place I truly felt comfortable) only to return, when absolutely necessary, to Texas (where I grew up, but candidly, never really felt I “fit in.”) In late August 2012 I got the call.
It was time.
I made arrangements to move – packing up clothing and a few books, things I felt I might need, and shipped them to Texas in advance. I wrapped up some design and drafting work I was doing for a client, then moved to cut a few professional ties, or at least put them on hold. Given the pace of his decline I anticipated to stay in Texas anywhere from six months to a year, so I made travel arrangements to depart about 3 weeks out, purchasing a round trip ticket that could be rescheduled for a return trip as needed. Being a practical family, the plan was that I would move to Texas for the duration, Franklin would “hold the fort” in NYC, and I would return to reestablish myself there once everything had resolved. Unsurprisingly, my father’s spiraling descent into Alzheimer’s was challenging to everyone involved, and it’s my belief it would have lasted longer, had his cancer not metastasized and rapidly spread up his spine. We didn’t know exactly how much time he had left, and as it turned out he lived another five months, passing in mid-January 2013.
It was time.
As my sister and I adjusted to my father’s decline and death it became obvious that my mother was suffering a decline of her own. A lifelong battle with cardiovascular disease and a series of “TIA’s” (Transient Ischemic Attacks) – commonly known as mini-strokes, had left her with progressing Vascular Dementia. The dementia exacerbated a life long struggle with mental health issues. Anxiety, depression, and other darker disorders impacted her fragile physical health, to the point that her doctors essentially said she could “go at any time” – probably not lasting more than two years at most. So I arranged to extend my temporary stay. To everyone’s surprise (I think even to her own), she held on for nine years and two months. She was miserable in the end, and dementia projected that misery to her family, before finally letting her pass in mid-March 2022.
It was time.
What I had expected to be a year away from NYC at most, had slowly but surely stretched into a difficult and challenging decade. Careers and simple practicality have taken Franklin and I away from NYC, and it’s just too much effort to move back and reestablish a life there, as much as we miss it. Besides, Franklin is facing family responsibilities of his own that will need to play out, and I want to offer him my support. My mother’s passing did not end the ongoing responsibilities of life. Family and personal health issues still occur, the house and car still need to be maintained, bills must be paid. “Life,” as is said, “goes on.” Still, this ten year anniversary does mark an inflection, a turning point. I’ve been thinking, investigating, researching, and exploring where the Universe might take me from here. I’ve learned not to rely too much on overly detailed planning, it’s far better to to just point myself in a direction and move forward. I have some ideas, I have a direction… and despite myself, I have (shhhhhhhh… don’t tell the Universe) a little bit of a plan.
It is time.