My life with Jack in three word sentences

December 20, 2020

My fridge broke. Jack fixed it. He was magnetic. A fridge magnet.  A crazy Pole. Two times married. Four grown kids.  Smoked too much. I was 43. He was 58.  Two strong Libras. 

We loved language. We loved food. We loved drink. We loved hosting. We loved music.  We loved beauty.  We loved travel. 

I loved Jack. Jack loved me.  

We moved in. It was hard. We lived differently. I am organized. Jack was disorganized.  Jack hoarded things. I live spare.  I plan things. Jack was spontaneous. Jack loved change. I hate it.  I am early. Jack was late. Jack was insolvent. I am not. Jack dreamed big. I don’t dream. (Set a goal. Make it happen.  That is me.)  I control things.  I manage people.  Jack was uncontrollable.  Jack was unmanageable.  

Jack softened me.  I loved dogs.  I started gardening. I relinquished control. I lived differently. 

So did Jack.  He observed time. He tried structure.  

We both compromised. We found contentment. 

We saw Europe. We raised dogs. We hosted parties. We made home. We played cards. We watched TV.  We ate well.  We laughed much. We loved life.  

Some things stayed.  Too many cigarettes.  

It was 2016.  Jack got cancer.  Lung is bad.  I was scared.  I began grieving.  He was treated.  We got married. It was distraction.  Fun during treatment.  We celebrated marriage. With good friends.  With good food.  With good wine.  With good music.  All things good.  Things looked better.  

We resumed life. We travelled west. We made plans.  We felt confident. Jack was well.  

He kept smoking.   I felt angry.  Why still smoke? Quitting might work.  He might live.  Quitting was impossible.  He didn’t try. We fought much. I nearly left.  But I stayed. I loved him. He loved me. Life was short.  

2018 brought metastasis. First the brain. Then spinal fluid. Called leptomeningeal disease.  Three months left.  I was shattered.  I left work. Stepdaughter got married. 65 people here. I hosted it. Jack was present.  All for him. 

Then he failed.  No more treatment.  He was dying.  He wanted MAID. He signed paperwork. He waited though. Not quite ready.  His brain fading.  Eligible for MAID?  I was worried.  Riding out clock.  

“I am ready.”  He said it.  I organized it. Sons from Poland. Kids from Brampton. Uncle from Barrie. Sister here too.  Dr. Weiss came. Jack died peacefully.  He showed resolve.  I was proud. He controlled death.  

We celebrated well!  Many people came. There was music. There was food.  We drank vodka.  There were speeches.  He was feted.   Not there though. 

I was alone. I slowly recovered.  Very slowly re-emerged.   One year passed. I craved change.  I was ready.  Then came COVID. Too much change.  I was struggling.  I started writing.  Wrote about Jack.  I found voice. I found solace. I found comfort.