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| Rosemary and Niño March 2020 |
Until my grandmother died in 1970, she was always in my life. I adored her. We shared a sweet tooth. She told everybody that I was an artist just like she was. She often gave me advice that never was of the kind that began with, “Alex, don’t…” it was always, “Alex if you do this, this is what going to happen.” She was most modern in this.
Most of her advice came from the fact that she had thorough knowledge of the Don Quijote plus all the refrains she learned in the 19th century when she was growing up in Valencia.
The one piece of advice that is always in my mind and especially now is, “El que espera desespera”. It is difficult to get the lovely ring of alliteration as it does not translate into English. To wait in Spanish is esperar and despair is desesperar. Thus the translation is that if you wait you will despair.
At least 15 years ago I kept telling Rosemary of the initials WTD which are short of Waiting to Die. She kind of agreed with me. Then about 6 years ago when she was not in good health we modified WTD to PTD or Preparing to Die. I told her that if I went first she was not to install a bench in some park with my memory. A few years before I had written this blog.
We prepared to die by making sure we had an up-to-date will, extra keys for our daughters to open our bank safety deposit box, etc. I even wrote a blog Who will be first?
Rosemary died first on December 9 2020. I am now beginning to keep this thought to myself as my family objects when I tell them that at age 82 I am WTD. But it is most evident that this is what I am doing, as I rot in bed, stare at the ceiling and think of the life I had, but never of the life that I might have in front of me.
My will to keep going is not all that good but it is kept in check by my male cat Niño who has lymphatic cancer of the intestines. He is looking pretty good as I give him a vet-prescribed human cancer pill every other day. We manage to walk around the block when it is not raining or snowing.While I bed rot, he looks at me and I imagine he is telling me, “Alex, don’t die before I do, as who will take care of me and of Niña?”
There is one philosophic conundrum that would be a problem for other people but not for me. Both Rosemary and I believed we would never see each other again.
There is then something wrong when I think, “Alex you are waiting to die so you can join Rosemary in oblivion.”
Were I a tad more optimistic I could explain that esperanza (with that route esperar) is a the beautiful word in Spanish for hope. It used to be an old fashioned and wonderful woman's name.
In my waiting it would seem that I have good company. Niño and I are together in this adventure.
