This week we feature Stories from a Distance about love.
A story of love felt as empathy and pain due to the constraints of social distancing.
A story of the strength it takes to love and be loved during a time of deep suffering and loss.
A story of deciding to let love grow in shared isolation.
Many Hands
Anonymous
As a social worker I see an image of pain not seen by many other people during these times. I wish to help, and yet my help is limited. Limited by the distance, by the stay-at-home orders, by the internet connection.
And... I can still feel their pain. A pain I share.
I see a mirroring in my body as I hear my clients speak, reminding me of my own humanity. Usually not a spoken topic: But they can probably see it through the glassiness of my eyes.
I notice when my clients talk to me about members of their families who are ill or at risk. I think about my father with diabetes, my aunt with lung cancer, my girlfriend’s 70-year-old mother.
I notice when my clients talk about feeling down because they’re coping strategy is spending time with their friends and frolicking in the sun. I notice my mind yearn for the kiss of my lover and a relaxing evening in a cool theatre with a large screen waffling popcorn into my throat.
I notice that when my clients talk about arguments with their family at home. I can’t help but notice the distance I have with my own family and how, even in confinement, it feels like an immeasurable gap between us.
Maybe I can DO something about some of this…. Develop some deeper insight, facetime my loved ones, try to talk to my dad during Family Feud commercials, wash my hands….
I can’t fix COVID19 and all the damage it will do. But I’m right there in the muck with you. With your pain. I’m feeling it too. We all are. In some way, shape, or form. Through different depths and intensities. Unfixable. And shared.
Untitled
Anonymous
My friend Charlene’s final wish was to leave this world surrounded by love and laughter. During this period of Covid-19, she persevered, and on a sunny day in April she left us with a smile on her face, surrounded by a small group of friends gathered in our masks and gloves. We had chocolate cake, champagne and milk.
She raised a glass to us and thanked us for our love and for being with her, and we thanked her for her friendship, her bravery and her unending kindness.
Char fought a painful blood cancer for seven years. Her only option for a cure was a successful bone marrow transplant. This did not work.
Char did not let it stop her, she continued to live her life as before. Sometimes she would sit on the floor of the Home Depot until the pain in her legs subsided, but she always got up and finished her shopping. She wanted to get that deck stained, or paint the cottage, or replace some rotted boards on the porch.
She always had concern and compassion for the people she loved. She always showed up for them, and never drew attention to her own pain. Asking for help was a big accomplishment for her as this cancer progressed.
She rallied back from many infections. The last infection that once again sent her to hospital was early March, just as the coronavirus started to descend on society. The isolation started slowly, as more and more lock downs and stay at home procedures began.
She knew she had to rally back and make her plans, or she would fade away and die alone. She and her partner got married in the hospital, signed the papers to enact the MAID procedure. (Medical Assistance in Dying) and then waited….
Mishap after mishap…. She was moved to palliative, her spouse only allowed 2 hours a day, the medical staff overwhelmed so no paperwork could get filed and no medical staff available to perform the procedure.
With unrelenting strength, her spouse, (with the help of medical staff, the Ontario health ministry and Char’s ability to clearly state her wishes) orchestrated her transfer to a sunny spot in their home, surrounded by their dogs and the sound of birds.
She was able to spend a week at home, speaking with family and friends, having quiet time and reflective discussion in order to make her final decision. That decision became clear as she knew she was not going to get out of bed again. Inactivity was not her M.O.
The last hour we spent with her was full of stories and last-minute questions, how do we do this, how do we do that, how do we go on without you? She said, “you’ll figure it out”, “now let’s get this ship sailing.”
And when she was gone and the room was silent, the reality of the virus came back, we had to leave her spouse alone in a puddle of tears... no physical touching.
Love In The Time Of Corona
by Alison Chace
What a difference a few weeks makes in the time of coronavirus for the thousands of us single girls used to casually swiping right and left.
It’s 4pm on a Thursday, or is it Wednesday, and I have just made sweet passionate love to Simon for the 20th time in six days. Note: Simon is not my boyfriend. I met him on Bumble a couple months ago. We’d meet once every week or so, for a low-commitment date such as trying out a new restaurant conveniently next to my office, or catching a fellow actor friend’s show already on my to-do list, with occasional flirty text messages in between. I loved Simon’s thick Australian accent. I loved how big his hands are. But what I really loved about him was he was completely accommodating and put zero pressure on me. If he suggested a get-together and I responded with, “Let’s decide in a couple of days,” he was fine with that. If ever I felt I was in the driving seat of a relationship, this was it.
So when Simon showed up at my apartment, as ominous news reports of quarantine and self-isolation and possible death loomed, armed with three duffel bags stuffed with clothes and frozen meat, I thought, “Oh, how cute, I guess it’s good to be prepared,” approaching his entry with the casual, go-with-the-flow vibe I’ve spent the last two years cultivating as a single woman in New York City. I’d refined the skill of nudging dates out of my apartment before morning light. I hadn’t allowed myself to expect too much from any man, preferring to proclaim my girlfriends as my true soulmates and men as handy for dinner or a concert or a hook-up.
That was then, and this is now. When the world feels like it could be ending at any moment, worrying there could be someone better out there seems ignorant and even ridiculous when there’s a sweet, loving, kind man right in front of me.
Admittedly, it’s odd to have a man I don’t know well see me in a time when there’s no time for games or pretenses. Simon keeps telling me how beautiful I am, and I haven't worn makeup in weeks. My go-to quarantine fashion statement is a grey hoodie. There are no parties to take him too, or work to impress him. It’s just us. A man and a woman experiencing a once-in-a-lifetime event together.
Even our personal lives seem lined up. We’re both middle-aged parents, and our lives normally revolve around our kids, but his pre-teen children are with their Mom enjoying a mountainside rental in Utah and my 18- and 20-year-old sons are happily stuck in The Bahamas with their Dad and friends. Everyone seems to be on the same page; everyone’s content to be where they are. Normal parenting trials and tribulations haven’t factored into our bubble.
Is this connection, forged by zero other options, what builds love in some arranged marriages? In India, for example, as many as 90 percent of marriages are arranged, but under one in 1,000 marriages end in divorce. In a Psychology Today article, Utpal Dholakia, Ph.D., suggests three factors may be in play to explain why Indian arranged marriages find success. One is “relinquishing difficult aspects of the choice;” parents or elders screen potential partners. Two is “choice with relatively little deliberation;” research suggests for complex decisions, it’s better when people go with their gut feeling. And third is “starting the relationship with lower expectations.” All right, so my parents obviously didn’t set up Simon and I, but when he showed up at my door, I definitely “relinquished difficult aspects of the choice.” And I didn’t deliberate much. Our relationship was already built on relatively low expectations, or low demands of each other.
When there’s no parade of other choices, is that what makes love possible? Or am I in some dating version of The Breakfast Club; when detention is over, will I go back to my old self?
Was he sent to wake me up to my own need for personal growth? Why not accept love rather than question it? If my issues were intimacy, fear of getting too close, exposing my vulnerabilities for fear of getting hurt, or even fear of love itself, isn’t this the perfect time to step up and see if I can act differently, love differently? I have nothing to lose if the world is going to end. What if I used this time for self-reflection, for clarifying my priorities and identifying what it is I really, truly want in this life: love, and connection?
As I’m the founder of Pink Wisdom, a women’s relationship advice website, I’m very into communication games and guess who was not only willing but actually wanted to play them as well? You guessed it. I landed on “The 36 Questions That Lead to Love,” based on a study by psychologist Arthur Aron. It’s an exercise for any two people who want to nurture a relationship, although it bears a reputation for inciting love. We’re currently on question 28; the exercise is brilliantly designed, with the questions acting spring boards for other topics. They’ve given us talking points, and yes, helped us get to know each other deeper.
But the exercise wasn’t the only way for me to recognize the high-value man in front of me. Turns out Simon has quite a few desirable qualities beyond his bedroom expertise. He lives by a code of empathy and compassion. Like, for real. He grew up on a working farm and majored in agriculture in college, and has spent hours pruning my backyard. He can fix a toilet. He gained survival skills working at a safari. He’s a gourmet chef (literally), passionate about homemade soups. He indulges me in daily games of Scrabble and Backgammon. He is clean and smells good and chops wood and tells hilarious stories that leave me laughing so hard my side hurts. He lifts me up and spins me around; physically and emotionally. His self-proclaimed goals are to give and to love. While I’m constantly texting my girlfriends, he’s trading jokes with his mates. And all through this he treats me as if I’m some kind of movie star paying attention to a background actor, like he can’t believe his luck. It feels amazing to be a team and fight the world together; all those things I had decided I don’t need but in fact I do need.
As I cozied up with Simon, my phone still lit up with texts from other guys I’d been dating, and I kept wondering what it would be like to be with them instead. I also wondered if Simon was staying in contact with the other women. So I asked, and Simon answered honestly, and offered to let me read the messages. His gesture made me feel completely secure in his desire for me, yet provided that competitive edge I seem to crave when dating men. I began to realize I must treat this one with care, and not let his kindness go unappreciated.
We’re now three weeks into this quarantine hook-up, and as I’m snuggled inside Simon’s warm, toned arms, he whispers, “I’m falling in love with you, Alison.” The question is: will I allow myself to fall in love with Simon?
They say miracles often arrive in disguise. They say growth is sometimes forced upon us. They say a lot of this and more. But what I say is…Simon, let’s go back to bed, and enjoy the moment together.
