And So It Goes on Raging?

I don’t know what I will name this. Two titles float in my head, Rage On or And So It Goes. Both are song titles, Dan Seals and Billy Joel respectively. The Dan Seals single talks of people’s life struggles. Billy Joel laments his willingness to have his heart broken for a few scant moments of love. These play out because my family has suffered a loss. For nine and a half decades, my wife’s grandmother lived with a quiet strength and endurance you rarely see. Then again, her life is one of hardships like few have ever known. This is especially so for Americans. Her roots take us to Poland, some years into the aftermath of World War I. People in the here and now see World War II as a matter of time even in the mid-1920’s. The course towards it an inevitable destination. I wonder if this is what she saw in her childhood among her brothers and sisters. History plays out; Germany invades. Like many Poles, her family is torn apart, forced into work camps. Her time in them will haunt her whole life.
Post-World War II and in the early days of the Cold War, she, her husband, and eldest daughter escape the Iron Curtain. They migrate to the United States, and settle in Chicago. They have two more daughters and instill in all three a fundamental and unshakable devotion to family. The girls grow within the structures of Old World rearing with New World life. Polish, German, and a smattering of Russian change over to accented English. Soon the patter of grandchildren’s feet replaces their daughters’. They rest on their hard-earned slice of the American Dream. However, life’s only promise comes early for her husband. In the chaotic storms and cold nights of her loss, she endures. Her family keeps her strong and always will. It annoys her. The longing to be with her husband and her continuing commitment to her family tears at her. However, she knows one day, she will reach that door and walk through it. She has the strength to wait until then. Even in the twilight of her life, this strength surmounts much, save the ravages of age. In the end, her body can’t keep up with her indominable will.
Yesterday, we put her to her final rest. This is my wife’s second big death and funeral of her life. This is my seventh. I stay back as a silent observer and steady rock for her and her mother. Each woman show they learned their matriarch’s lessons in strength. The lesson isn’t about blind stoicism, but crying in the face of a bitter December wind and know there is a tomorrow waiting to be lived. Later, in conversations with my side of the family, I am asked how I am doing. My immediate response is I’m dealing, which I am. I’ve known the woman for twenty years now. You can’t avoid or disavow growing affections over such long periods. The chat turns boorish when I am not so lightly accused of bottling up my feelings. It becomes outright crass when my fumbling refutation is ignored.
All said and done, while I am saddened by the loss, I have found myself curiously ambivalent. Maybe because it’s my seventh time around. Maybe it’s due to watching Busia deteriorate over the past year and a half. During that time, we experienced so many ups and downs with her health. In the last eight months, we sat enraptured wondering if this day or that day would be her last. We relished the days she remembered our names and faces. Others we grappled with the growing dismay at her weight loss and longer gaps between moments of fading lucidity. You learn to cope. You say goodbye every night before bed, and yes, hope you don’t have to repeat it again the next night. That is not a cruel thought. Wanting relief for yourself as well as your loved one aren’t moral failings and don’t let anyone tell you any different. With and through my wife, I experienced these trials and tribulations.
Speaking isn’t one of my strengths, hence the fumbling refutation. I had no chance to challenge the argument. Before you ask why didn’t I write it out to the person, this has taken me about forty-five minutes to type. My best response was, this is a part of life. Not exactly Grade-A material, but accurate and to the point. Having this comment ignored sparks a self-sustaining internal monologue. Is this person, right? Am I just bottling it all up? Once the question is asked, I give a brilliant argument as to why this person is wrong, only to question myself and start the process over again. This whole blog entry is mostly this scenario playing itself out. Ultimately, it leads to my opening premise, the title.
They Rage On by Dan Seals has been a favorite of mine since I was a child. Trapped, lost, and disillusioned, the characters of the song strive to continue on to find meaning. We all fight against the darkness wanting to consume us. On the flip-side, Billy Joel’s And So it Goes is a reflection of us who remain behind after a loved one dies. Every single one of us in this world chose to love others knowing an end will come. Why do we do this to ourselves? Because the alternative is a far more frightening and painful existence.
I don’t know, am I just bottling it up?