Mid-life crisis

Someone, seeing the change in my appearance (minus beard and glasses) commented jokingly that soon I'd be buying a red sports car. I countered that for a proper mid-life crisis I'd also need a ditzy blonde as well - I had a feeling that you'd need the sportscar to get the blonde.

Now if you know me at all you'll realise that I have no interest in sportscars or blondes (for their own sake anyway). Yet Jen's death is a true mid-life crisis, a searching re-examination of the way in which my life is constructed. On one hand I need to review the choices, explicit and implicit, that we'd made together. Not that I have any intention or in many cases even the capacity of undoing past choices, but compromise was always there in our choices, as it is for most couples. I don't always have to do the same things in order to please someone who isn't with me anymore. Of course the three of us still have a sense of our family traditions, and much of that will remain. As a small example, I find that I've completely stopped watching television. We didn't ever watch more than about two or three hours in  a week, but my watching was as much social - to be with Jen - as it was the interest of the program (mainly crime shows). Now I can't find the interest to switch on the box, apart from cricket matches in summer, which has the air of a ritual.

With Jen's death, a lot of the future that we imagined has gone. Part of my task now is to reimagine that future, in order to set new goals in the present. The fragility of life does mock our imaginings (Woody Allen's joke: What's the best way to make God laugh? Tell him your plans for the future). During the ten months between diagnosis and death, our focus was more on appreciating and rejoicing in each extra day than on grand plans. Yet I still need to have a direction beyond the rut in which I'm travelling, and I will spend time picking through the rubble of our dreams to see what is still valuable.

The second part of the mid-life crisis is to adapt to life again as a single person. I say "again" although it doesn't have much resemblance to being 25 and surrounded by other  young single people. I need more from my friendships outside the home than I've ever needed before, but it's very difficult to be out at night, and so most of my contact is on telephone, email or facebook. Indeed I have to be careful not to expect too much time or intensity from my friends, who have many other relationships to sustain. I also have to acknowledge what I can't have -- someone I can confide in, someone who cares about the mundane aspects of my every day, someone who can talk through the decisions I face (especially as a parent), someone apart from the boys who needs my care and love and who returns it.

The third part of the mid-life crisis is adapting to being a single parent. I do try to transcend my limitations as a person, but I can't replace Jen and the way she was. In practical terms I have taken over everything - not always as successfully as Jen, but adequately. The boys have changed a lot in six months as we continue living without Jen, and as any parent does, I must learn and change too, admit when it's not working, find new ways to meet each new situation.

So don't look for the sportscar, but remember that I'm still undergoing major changes, and make allowances for my limitations as a friend or as a parent.