So this Happened

John and Pam Stivers had over 30 years together, the last one of which was spent here in Cuenca. We met them one night when the two of us were having a quiet dinner downtown. This woman just suddenly walked up to our table and asked, “Are you two newlyweds?”

We smiled and explained that we’d actually been together 25 years.

“But you’re still holding hands! John! Look! They’re still holding hands!”

At which point the man at the next table who was obviously her husband smiled, nodded, and raised his glass.

And so it ever was: Pam, the life force; John, the pillar of calm and strength.

We were friends from that moment on. Not in- your- pocket- everyday friends, but friends who were always glad to see each other. One of the best parts about living here is that there seem to be a great many of us “Gringos” who enjoy getting together but still cherish our independence and quiet time alone, just with ourselves and our life partners.

So it’s easy to imagine that when Pam woke up in the dark of the wee morning hours before dawn on Easter Sunday to answer Nature’s call (as we all do more often now), she noticed that the covers had slipped off John’s arm and, not wanting him to get chilled, on her way back to bed she stopped on his side of the bed to tuck his arm back in. But his arm was so cold… so very, very cold.

There was panic, of course. And frantic attempts at CPR; waking the neighbors;, calling the ambulance, and then the many, many phone calls to friends and family. Pam did it all with strength and grace and unimaginable grit. We didn’t see her in person until John’s memorial service yesterday, where her main concern seemed to be that we all appreciate how much so many people had done to help her in this difficult time. Pam was her own pillar of strength and calm.

Each of us who comes here in the “Tercera Edad” has to have had a scenario like this briefly run through his or her mind at least once. At least in this Time-Space continuum, there is always a final curtain. We can only hope to rise to the occasion as bravely and gallantly as Pam has. I know I have repeatedly requested of Ray Lewis that he promises to let me die first, and he has repeatedly replied that he really doesn’t have the power to make that promise. I hate that answer.

So today my promise to myself and my wish for anyone reading this is to have enough good sense and awareness to appreciate every, and I mean EVERY, moment with our friends and loved ones. And, even more importantly, to be kind to one another. I know it sounds sappy but I just don’t have a clever way to put it. Whatever comes after we leave this life, I hope we all have the good sense to leave without regrets.

And, if at all possible, to leave still holding hands.