Recently, I have begun to wonder what the second season will look like. The limitations of time preclude the eventuality from happening to all of us, death. Naturally, there is usually one or a series of particular events which catapult one into a profound introspection of the finality of one’s existence, here on this planet. Before then, one is faced with the second season. What is it? It is this change in one’s personality where change itself has become frightening. Perhaps, it may have been sparked on by an event, in this case, Covid-19 virus. From a global perspective, the pandemic affected everyone on this earth. No one was immune to its grasp. Mind you, it may not have been physical in your particular situation, but for most, if not all, it certainly was mental. As a clinician, the mental anguish that I experienced over one year, watching people of all ages die from the virus left an inedible mark in my psyche. Moreover, I contracted Covid-19. I expected to die, but I didn’t. As a matter of fact, I had barely any recognizable symptoms at all, yet I was still left with a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. To make matters worse, I also contracted a debilitating illness which left me feeble and mentally depleted due to, its effect on my body and the terrible insomnia which followed.
To quote Dickens: “It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.” The second season brought me ever closer to my relationship with Christ, then my wife. Through it all, it seems that the “imprisonment” in my household had great and significant consequences. Previously, the focus had been on myself. I was the cardiologist, the “rainmaker,” the doer who always got things done for everyone, no matter the challenge. Stress was an afterthought, ever present, yet controllable. Recently, this has not been the case. With great introspection, has brought great trepidation. The bold and stalwart risk taker had changed. That which was so important didn’t matter anymore and that which was left behind the scenes suddenly became of crucial importance. Now, one might think that 65 years of age is not necessarily a second season at all, in fact, it may be the prime of one’s life in self-actualization, financial security, and such. This has not been the case, in my humble opinion. The year 2020 marked a deviation from the norm. I presume that perhaps, the Spanish Flu pandemic of the early 20th century may have had similar consequences. I’m not sure. Certainly, one could surmise that history often repeats itself, but I think that this particular pandemic, albeit not being the worst in history, had a very specific impact in that the transmission was aerial and from a strand of an RNA virus. This has chilling consequences as it spread throughout the entire world where everyone on the planet was affected in one way or another. Whether it be fear of illness or fear of survival, the pandemic, I believe, will have far-reaching circumstances for the foreseeable future.
The second season also reflects a turning point in my relationship with my wife. Being 16 years younger, we have spent the first part of our journey with great wonder and travel. We thoroughly enjoyed the many years we had together as one flesh. Now, age becomes ever increasingly a distance point where the natural decays of life unfold for one and not necessarily for the other. The vantage point is different. I look back at see myself when I first met her at her age and I see myself elderly, although to my great surprise, still quite fit to make of go of it. Sadly, the body functions on one level while the mind at yet another. The second season envisions an eventuality that is incontrovertible and final. One begins to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Spiritually, there is no confusion. We both are Christians and fully ready to meet our Maker with great awe and anticipation. Respectfully, one is still human with joie de vivre. Despite the joy of meeting Christ, one still holds on to the precious life given by the Creator. This was described by the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Philippians. Suddenly, time has taken on a more peculiar meaning as if it has a mind of its own controlling the eventuality of one’s soul. Space has also its peculiar consequence as change has become frightening and fearful. One begins to get set in one’s ways and in every respect, finds great comfort in the banality and mundane. Trips, here and there, to family and friends take on new and challenging meaning. It’s not necessarily the destination but the trajectory that begs the question, why?
Now, this may have some substantial, yet quite a different effect, on my wife. See, how I was then, the way she is now, can no longer been seen from my vantage point. It’s not a constraint, necessarily, but a change of a way of life that has become habit forming. I certainly could not bear the thought of weighing her down with my melancholia. She has been more than a joy, an inexpressible joy in my life. The truth remains. Yes, I am a “young” 65-year-old married to a woman nearly 50 years of age. It has been a great pleasure to have spent this first season with the woman of my very soul. I pray that this second season affords me the wisdom and elegance to gracefully age in a manner befitting such a dame for the ages. God bless you, my love.
For Sonja