recovering
stories from Maine
I’m inside the kind of home you that looks warm from the outside, and upholds this expectation within.
I sit with the woman who built this home nine years ago, dressed in a cotton zip-up with delicate embroidery on her sleeves.
She begins by telling of her childhood, growing up right around where she lives now.
Her story unfolds, one of a wife, mother, innovative business woman, and remarkable force for good in her community.
Then, her husband’s death forces the sale of their business. In one swoop, the death of her husband threatened both emotional loss as well as loss of occupation.
That was in 2002. Now, at 86 years old, she continues to stay occupied, specifically connected to her occupation by tending to her property.
It is a decline in her health that tests her most, because it gets in the way of much of her coping. You can hear it in her voice, and in person, her frustration is clear.
Her doctor’s intervention, as well as in-home physical therapy and homecare, have dramatically lessened her once debilitating pain and weakness. But, fear of a fall remains. In fact, she hesitates to go outside, especially without a handrail.
A few cognitive changes have also made her favorite kinds of intellectual engagement a challenge. In addition, she sometimes doubts how well she can communicate.
Beverly has lost several people after her husband passed, including, painfully recently, her son. She is also the last of her siblings.
I asked whether she has ever spoken with her doctor about loneliness after enduring such concentrated emotional loss. She did once, but shares why medical and mental health resources failed to coordinate properly with one another, and to her, to meet her where she was at.
It becomes clear that she copes with grief adeptly, when professional support won’t step in.
The death of her pet, constantly underfoot, present, and knowing, was also heartbreaking, no matter how the loss might compare with others she has suffered. Challengingly, her physical health makes adopting a new companion too burdensome.
A key loneliness antidote for her is the short distance to family who stayed close to their childhood home. Beverly has 3 children (having lost her son), 8 grandkids and 5 great grandkids. She also has friends nearby, women who offer her a must-have: laughter.
A few stores and restaurants, third spaces, are important for her to meet up with friends, go out to eat with family, bring those connections into her daily routine.
Her health struggle brought to the surface many of her fears about aging. I can hear her voicing a tension she feels: she ought to accept that aging is part of life, but it can still be scary.
I asked what the word “loneliness” means to her. In one breath, she relates the little loneliness she feels to her connection to an important part of her life history: her role within her community.
Her church community and volunteerism keep her connected with her higher purpose, as seen in the years she decided to staving off food insecurity in her community. It is one of active, innovative giving, an aim has carried through life, and carries now.