Slayback: The bereaved have to find a new path

“You know, last week was the third anniversary of Marcie’s death,” Bob told me after lunch at the golf course. Bob’s an ageless 86, not given to personal commentary.

Lunch had turned out to be a celebration. My husband, Paul, shot 77 and Bob finished with a 78 — the lowest they’d ever shot. After sandwiches, Paul wandered off to the pro shop, looking for a new wood he’d inquired about.

Once alone with me, Bob stopped crowing about their near par games and changed topic abruptly.

“I don’t know who I am…. I’m not Marcie’s husband….” His voice trailed off. “She’s not coming back,” he said, sounding more unconvinced than resigned. A gold wedding band encircled his left ring finger.

“I’m not a complainer, you know that,” he said, “but my kids are getting sick of me. Supposed to get easier with passing years, but we’re all having a tough time with this anniversary. And my back kills — searing pain when I sit too long. Kids think I should go to a retirement community with future care — forget that! But I’m empty inside. My whole body aches. I feel like a non-person.”

“Lots of people feel like you.” I said, “What about those bereavement groups?”

“I don’t do groups, hate meetings.”

“Ever think of getting to know somebody, a lady, a companion?

“Carrie, you want another one of those big vegetarian sandwiches you just wolfed down?”

“Couldn’t,” I said.

“Marcie is enough for me. Nobody else appeals.”

“You are an innovator, entrepreneur — how ‘bout mentoring young inventors?”

“No thanks. I’ve been a professor, done with that. Besides our kids have enough problems to keep me busy. Marcie and I used to discuss kids, grandkids. Nobody to talk to now.”

Logical, composed, unemotional Bob dissolved before my eyes. All my suggestions were irrelevant.

At that moment, Paul returned with a couple of trial clubs. Bob rose, not the towering figure I knew, but bent, diminished. He moved toward the driving range, and I sat there, struck by how often Bob referred to physical pain along with emotional suffering.

That night, I searched Google for Bob’s feeling of “depersonalization with loss of mate.” I found no shortage of suggestions, like the ones he rejected.

Then I read Elizabeth Harper Neeld’s analysis of loss triggering an “ancient reaction in our brains: the fight-or-flight response.” She claims researchers have found that the deserted mate feels the cave person’s panic at the loss of a life-sustaining partner, in terms of in hunting, gathering and enemy protection.

“Even now … at some deep level we fear for our very survival,” she writes.

Feeling in danger, we mobilize for protection, but finding no enemy to run from, “we are caught in a state of tension … held taut,” placing our bodies under enormous stress. She notes the resulting production of “CRH, a hormone that causes anxiety-like symptoms,” affecting central nervous system, breathing, sleeping, eating, digestion, concentration.

According to Neeld, these reactions can actually rearrange muscles and even the skeleton, resulting in loss of coordination, a compromised immune system and a long list of diseases.

Bob marshaled his natural ability for an amazing golf game, but when not concentrating on the sport, he hurt. Maybe a doctor or a therapist could help, but he wasn’t going to ask. So I gathered a combination of tried-and-true advice from hikers and Paul’s muscle-ache solutions and emailed Bob:

Dear Bob, here are some suggestions for your back pain,

•Before a long trip, our friend Laurie dropped off tennis balls to place at points where back pain occurs when sitting. We use tennis balls and softer foam balls when sitting for long periods.

•Here’s the site for the Theracane, Paul’s pressure-point tool.

•Here’s site for the Rumble Roller, which magically relieves back pain.

Bob got right back. “I’ll try these!”

Will these suggestions work? Don’t know. Bob’s smart. He won’t go overboard and hurt himself with new “toys.” Maybe each will work a bit, adding to relief.

However, my sense is that taking action fits Bob’s problem-solving style. He’s a self-starter, maybe a self-healer. In any event, perhaps being busy experimenting with tennis balls, the pressure point tool and the roller will allow some of his inner pain to dissipate, giving way to acceptance of reality.

Marcie is not coming back, though no less a cherished memory, but the rest of the world awaits Bob’s next invention, self-invention.

Newport Beach resident CARRIE LUGER SLAYBACK is a retired teacher who ran the Los Angeles Marathon at age 70, winning first place in her age group. Her blog is [email protected].