Living in the "now"...

Tomorrow afternoon, we're going to the funeral of my husband's closest friend. 

Bill Davidson was the most vibrant, charming, engaging man I've ever known – robust is the word I used to describe him in a newspaper story I once wrote. He never let me forget it, either. 

I fell in love with Bill the first time I met him about 10 years ago. He and my husband met in 1958 when he was directing a wonderful B-movie called Ivy League Killers. He cast Marty, 22 at the time, as one of a gang of young, rather innocent bikers. 

Several years later, they reconnected and began a professional partnership that ripened into a best-friendship.

They simply adored each other.

Besides his outstanding career as a television and film producer and director, and screenwriter, Bill was a poet, a lover of words and wordplay. He loved typewriters, too. Then his granddaughter introduced him to one of the first generation Apple iMacs. He was hooked. His email moniker was "finefrogfilet" and he never looked back. 

He and my husband preferred corresponding by email and their messages were long and literary, laced with wit and writerly hijinks, puns and playfulness. As well, there were always these peculiar, indecipherable references to The Young and The Restless. They were both shamelessly addicted.

I've been thinking about how Bill lived. He hated replacing things – preferred old to new – and always found the most fascinating people to do his repairs. A gentle giant, gregarious and curious, Bill loved collecting quirky, odd, idiosyncratic folks and their stories, which he then added to his wide-ranging repertoire of entertaining tales. 

When we were with Bill and his wife, Mary, there was always side-splitting laughter. They had their problems – no one escapes this life without them – but Bill managed to find a funny side to those, too. He spliced his misadventures with wit and wisdom, humour and humility. He was a brilliant raconteur. Bill never simply told his stories, he re-enacted them, playing all the parts. He seemed to stop time. He was ageless and timeless. 

He was 81. 

That might sound old to you, but it's not old anymore. 

This weekend, ironically, after several years, I heard from another friend who works as a professional "permanent companion," caring for aging people, no longer able to live on their own. Right now, she's caring for a woman about to turn 101.

Ursula has no home, no permanent address, no belongings, other than her clothes and whatever else she can fit into a suitcase. She has a car, a cell phone and an email address.

She's gloriously happy.

"I live in the now," she told me. She doesn't know when her current assignment will end or where her next one will be. When she cares for people, they tend to live longer than they or anyone else expects. She befriends them and enriches their lives. 

She travels with them, cooks for them and entertains their families. She creates a warm, homey, loving environment for them and when they die, she moves on.

When I was about 13 and Ursi was 16, my mother hired her as a "mother's helper" for the summer at our cottage. She was a cute, bubbly teenager from Oshawa, where she lived with her family. 

Every summer, for years, she came back, eventually becoming an honourary member of our family.

That first summer, she remembers me at my most vulnerable, my most histrionic, my most emotional. I had no diagnosis yet. I was at the beginning of my psychiatric journey.

"It was quite hectic," she wrote in response to an email I sent with a picture of me attached, taken that first summer. "Dealing with you was on the top of the list at the time." 

Now, at 63, she's lived and married, remarried and had several different business careers. She has a daughter and a grandson. She admits she's made a lot of mistakes, but "I'm happier than I've ever been."

When I saw Dr. Bob three weeks ago, I was so stressed out I couldn't function. 

He asked me one question. "What can you let go?" 

We came up with a strategy. Since then, I've made some major adjustments. One of them is to live in the present. To stop dwelling. To do whatever I'm doing, 110% at the time.

And then, let it go. 

It's amazing. I planned a month of Wednesday morning sessions with Dr. Bob, but I only needed one. 

Something twigged. I'm relaxing. Sleeping.

What a providential weekend this was. We lost our dear, darling friend, Bill, and on the day he died, my nomadic childhood friend and helpmate, Ursula surfaced. Out of the blue. 

We're having lunch next week. We're grabbing the moment.

That's what life means to me. That's how I want to live. 

Comments

[marica]

Hi Sandy,
I'm sorry for your loss and will be thinking of you tomorrow. Maybe we can do lunch before the New Year?
Take care,
m

[Sandy Naiman]

Hi Marica,

Thank you for your kind thoughts. And I'd love to "do" lunch in December. It's been too, too long.

It's lovely to hear from you. I hope you, your boys and your husband are happy and well!

Hugs,
sln

[Josh]

He sounds like the kind of person the world of today could need. I would have loved to meet Bill. I'm only 26 but I enjoy listening to older folks talk of there adventures and Bill seems like the easy going type despite his misfortunes at times and arguments in life. I miss talking with my Uncle Ken who pasted probably almost near 10 yrs now he used to tell me all kinds of stories about his days as a forest fire fighter and things about the town I grew up in. I'm sorry for your loss. *hug*

[Sandy Naiman]

Hi Josh,

First, thank you for the "hug"... I love hugs. Even e-Hugs! :) They're enormously healing.

You know, Bill didn't seem old. He's only 20 years older than me. He loved life. He had so much energy and enthusiasm about so many things. He loved to learn and was so full of fun. Age has nothing to do with numbers of years, I've learned. My husband is 13 years older than me and it makes no difference.

Josh, it's all about the way you look at life. It has nothing to do with wrinkles or grey hair – I have lots of grey hair and no one thinks I'm my age. It's about affect. It's about being fascinated with the world around you.

I'm afraid that with our current technology, too many people are isolating themselves and glued to little screens with endless apps and communication, which is not face-to-face, not really alive – and is toneless.

When Bill walked into a room he exuded such energy! People were drawn to him.

I hope that we can learn from his life and stay engaged with each other. Enjoy each other's stories. Converse with each other in real time and face to face.

And make each other laugh. My husband lives to make me laugh.

I think laughter keeps you young.

Stay smiling, Josh.

And thank you so much for your wonderful and compassionate message. I heard your concern and your longing in your words and I hope you'll find people around you with intriguing stories to share.

People of all ages.

Hugs to you!
sln

[Angi]

Hi Sandy
I've recently started reading your blog and love it. Something about this blog caught me, it's when your psychiatrist asked "what can you let go"? I've been struggling to help a friend with something and as I read that and reflected on it, that is something I could discuss with her. She turns to me for help as I'm a clinical social worker and I've felt blocked in trying to help her, now I have that question for her. Thank you, it has given me a whole new perspective - this blog and all of your other blogs that I've read.

Angi

[Sandy Naiman]

Hi Angi,

Forgive me for taking so long to get back to you. Thursday evenings are really wild for me, it seems.

Thank you for your lovely note and your vote of confidence, although Dr. Bob deserves the credit. Not me. I'm just the messenger.

During that session, by the way, we discussed how remarkably powerful and debilitating stress can be. I had no idea. At the same time, we also talked about how attitude is equally powerful. A positive attitude can make a huge difference, as can thinking in terms of "lessening the load."

I've been working hard on changing my attitude. Although you probably know all this, you and your friend might be interested in an excellent special new section on Stress, here at Healthzone.ca – it just went up today:

http://www.thestar.com/stress

I'm constantly amazed at how a slight adjustment in perspective can shed an entirely new light on one's life. I find this in my teaching, my research, my writing and in everything I do. This morning, I was discussing the subject of "Change" with my students. Several are very open to change, including in the way they think and perceive the world around us, while others are entrenched in their ways.

My personal secret to staying young is to be open to new ideas and new ways of looking at the world. New ways of thinking and conceptualizing. Creative, innovative, empathic thinking.

I'm so happy you've found us and I look forward to hearing more from you as you join our dialogue. It will be fascinating to hear your perspectives.

Welcome, Angi.

Take care and have a great weekend.

Speak soon!
sln