24

DEEPER THAN BLUE

Back in the day, when his words flowed freely, MH frequently asked, “Take me for a ride.” I knew exactly where he wanted to go: the Pacific Ocean that relaxed his knotted muscles and released his inner peace. To the ocean that corralled his rambling thoughts, running deeper than the blue his eyes could see.

The ocean caressed his body, metaphorically. My husband’s feet never touched the sand. Each time I begged him to get out of the car, his answer was an unequivocal “No”. MH sat in the Dodge and watched the ebb and flow of the tide, taking him farther and deeper out to sea. I quieted the music, let myself drift as far as he allowed me to go.

I could never reach that distant shore where his mind lingered. I could not barge beyond the limits of my ordered thinking.

At the ocean MH was free. Free from my questioning, “What are you thinking?” He was free from the inane probing of where his mind was as he sat right next to me. I craved a machine that could lead me to the place where his thoughts resided. When the silence settled in, I found myself pandering for his attention, asking out loud, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

Over time his words reduced to simple instructions, “Kiss me,” “Give me that,” “Take me inside the house,” “Let’s go.” The “why’s” became eternally unanswerable. Even if I asked, I would never know what he wanted me to do about his predicament, which was completely beyond my control.

As the years rolled by, I was greeted by his tears more frequently than my heart could bear. Watery eyes scrunched together his bushy brows. His lips scrolled away from his teeth. Tears flowed inexplicably. A remembered song from his distant past, a Sly Stone classic, would set him off. A photograph of his son or grandchildren could open the floodgates. I counted those as tears of joy. Other tears spelled pain, remembrances of moments no longer within his grasp.

I tamped down my tears to prevent our visits from becoming “pity” parties. I held his trembling hands in mine. My fear: MH was locked in a cage, submerged in deep water, struggling to get out. I banished the thought and subdued my panic. I prayed that the anti-anxiety meds would not let his mind go there, that I was only imagining his suffering. Whatever his state of mind, it was deeper than blue, as dark as the existence he held onto.