From Partner to Caregiver: Breaking Up is Hard to Do

by muddy feet mama

dancing with death

For those of you who might think we’re the perfect couple, saints embraced, waltzing our way to the after life, allow me to burst your bubble.  I spent the day PISSED OFF at Jay – like “Go Fuck Yourself” pissed off.  All because of something he said last night – something he has no recollection of today.

His mind is starting to waver.

(Insert your favorite expletive here – and if you really want to feel it with me, scream it at the light posts from your front porch).

No need to go into details about last night because they no longer matter.  One of the great heartbreaks of ushering your partner into death is that you are helping them leave you.  Your love for each other (hopefully) gets stronger but your partnership weakens, like the body.  Early death is a mandated breakup, one that is best done with pure love and devotion.  It’s a paradox.  What’s worse is that it is not shared equally, as everything else should be in marriage.  The quality of the breakup is on the shoulders of the one being left.  It’s fucked up.

Please feel free to scream at light posts anytime.

Jay and I both think he’s got about 1-2 weeks.  His symptoms are spot-on. His memory loss has been creeping up on him, but tonight’s revelation – saying something uncharacteristically mean to me and having no memory of doing it – that’s new.  My hope is that it’s because we were already having a heated conversation about his ex’s determination to take the kids from me.  I guess that business is just between me and Erin now.  And the courts, but that’s another story.

Suffice it to say, it’s my job to keep him at ease no matter what’s going on in my life.  I’m moving from partner to caregiver.  I can sense the breakup on the horizon.

Ce la vie.   Ce la mort.