Joan, reading your blog today makes me feel ashamed about the immature way I have of dealing with my husband. Just an example- we have been taking ballroom classes for several years but it has become increasingly difficult for my husband to remember the steps and stringing them together in a sequence is impossible. We decided to check out classes at a Senior's centre thinking that might be less stressful but we found that the classes are also mixed ages so O said that's it- I'm finished with this. I became so enraged- telling him I need to be out with people- I will find something else to do etc. It was the most childish and insensitive reaction but I just could not contain myself. I realize this is very trivial in the scheme of things but it's huge for us. We met dancing and it has always been our passion. I have to learn to accept that change is inevitable and I have to grow up!
Inge, it is not trivial. You really aren't upset about the dancing as much as knowing that you have to accept another loss. All the losses are hard to accept and sometimes we just need to rail at fate. Gord was wondering this morning about whether we were married or not. I told him that there is part of a poem inside his wedding band. It is," grow old along with me." I gave him that ring for our 25th anniversary and for our 26th, I gave him a dog tag on a gold chain that read, "the best is yet to be." I think frequently of the irony of those lines.
I agree completely with jang. It's not trivial, and she is so right about the "loss". The frustration we feel is at the loss of whatever activity it is that we can no longer share. Whether it is dancing, conversation, bike riding, or ANYTHING, it's that loss that makes us lose patience. I really hadn't thought about it that way before. Thanks jang, for that insight.
This reminds me. When I was trying to find activities for my husband and me, I went to a senior center and they had line dancing. There were about 35 women and one or two men. When my husband came on the floor, all the women were falling over each other telling him to 'stand next to me and I'll teach you, etc.' Well that pleased him very much and he did stand close to them--but, of course he could not do it no matter how hard they tried to teach him. Soon he was knocking into them like so many ten pins and they started to move away. He, on the other hand, was smiling broadly, having a grand old time. We ended up joining their bowling league--but that's another story of his being the only happy person in the lanes. But I loved him and sometimes lost my patience--that's what we humans tend to do.