I Just Realized...

 

… people die eventually. The route that transpires us towards death perhaps is a culmination of love, respect, action, inaction, beliefs and genetics, although I wouldn’t give genetics all that much weight. Yes, I’m coming out and saying so. When it comes to genetics, there’s always room for improvement with all of us; however, most of us either don’t know what the mission might be to alter our possible deadly predispositions or we’re not interested in knowing or don’t believe in the potential of helping oneself in that direction for whatever reason. Yet, most of us strive for longevity.

My life insurance agent who I’ve known since 1985 suggested I buy into long term care. That was after I’d told him I wanted to spend less, save it for ‘the kids’. I like the guy, but he lost me on that. “No. But thanks. I just want to know if my life insurance policy benefits our daughters in any way.” In other words, am I willing to continue to spoil our daughters on some level? ‘Absaposafuckinloutely’.

For the past week or so, a song once again has gained traction in between my ears. It’s by The Four Tops,  “I believe In You and Me”. As much as it brings tears to my eyes. It’s the only song currently I allow to play in the car that my husband bought for two reasons as he knew he had not much time left in 2020. One was he’d realized our 2008 minivan was now our oldest’ wheels as she had work and was still in her junior year of high school. He didn’t want to pass leaving us on edge having only one reliable car. He was mostly a considerate man. Two was he’d always wanted to try this brand of car in a stick shift for his last set of wheels. The whole idea was practical.

He too was so practical, that I’d tease him here and there on how he’d donate his clothing before anything looked old. Much of what he’d donated, if not all, was clothing that appeared to not have been worn. Then he’d page through the L.L. Bean magazine that’d appeared in our mail most recently, before he would go online and check out their website.

He loved to shop so much that the few times a year we’d have date night, it was dinner, then usually Macy’s. I’d tag along, as he’d show me how to shop for oneself. He’d say, “So Jody, you see this fiber?” I’d nod, “Yeah.” He’d continue, “This is cheap. Look at the stitching here.” Yeah, that’s how our date night post meal went.

I hated spending money on myself. I wore and still wear out my clothes till they are shredded, or if they’re jeans and you can’t zipper the crotch area anymore. Although, I do pretend that I don’t do that. However, my old wrestling/grappling partner had been like that as well. The joke was, “How many pairs of shorts do you have on today, Jody?” My quirky response would be, “Three and an undergarment of some sort.” Then he’d nod and we’d get wrestling. I don’t think I’d ever told him this, but it was four on top and an undergarment. That was because I trained with men, and it had been my point of modesty around most people in fight gyms. Plus, I could have ripped shirts layered well and I’d stay warm, even with bare feet in someone’s dojo.

I can now hear my deceased husband say, “Jody, you’re ridiculous. I’m on the L.L. Bean website. How long are you going to wear that sweater?” I’d stand dumbfounded. ‘Cause I truly didn’t know the answer to that question.

Christmas 2023 our daughters bought me a replacement sweater type thingy from L.L. Bean. I didn’t want to tell them this, but the fabric, meh. And Norm would have bemoaned the instant pilling after two washes along with the —ehh hmmm, stitching. And ohhh, good God the snaps instead of buttons at the top third of the garment. The snaps are near impossible to seal over the top third of the garment; however, my 1985 forest green thingy from L.L. Bean with actual buttons and buttonholes still works just fine. Yeah, it is missing twenty percent of its original material. Yet the stitching—yeah that is what has maintained itself together, aside from its buttonholes and original buttons still holding steady. I’m at the point of believing that garment could still survive a nuclear explosion and some how outlive and dance to another living frugal woman. People and animals would be destroyed, but not this forty-year-old sweater thingy I got on me currently. Don’t get me wrong, I change, just not my style. Too, I have no clue what that is, but it’s frugal.

Pets, I miss having them; however, last night with our oldest on the phone we agreed a pet keeps you tied down to what and where you can and cannot go for a day, much less a weekend. It’s not frugal at this point for her. Neither practical in your twenties whilst getting shipped to different project locations for a week of work in another city or state, hours away.

Back to the forty-year-old sweater thingy. It lasts like eternal love in some weird way; however, the earthly aspect of having eternal love that we can touch is but a dream. It is because earthly love ends in its biological format when the vessel of who we love dies. That which we knew is gone too, only memories remain. Some memories are saturated deep in our soul as we may sometimes wonder why a song makes us ball our eyes out for hours, weeks or years.--- Jody-Lynn Reicher