Lynne Goldklang with her husband, Don, at their 1963 wedding (left) and in 1996. Photos courtesy of Lynne Goldklang My husband lived with me for decades in our little house in the Hollywood Hills. It was supposed to be our “starter” home, but it was so cozy and full of life that we never left, as our two children were born, thrived and moved on to adulthood, and made us thrilled grandparents five times over.
At that point, it was just the two of us in that house — same as it was when we were a young couple filled with dreams for our budding life together.
Everything was fine until a few years ago, when cancer and Alzheimer’s came calling. We kept going together until the day Don fell and suffered a serious injury that required hospitalization and, eventually, the need for a place that wasn’t the home he knew and loved.
He hated that we no longer lived together.
Time passed and adjustments were made as the two of us spent hours together every day and said goodbye every evening. I missed the man I used to know, but fell deeply in love with this new, vulnerable guy who never gave up in his efforts to return to normal everyday living.
The staff at his excellent facility looked to us as an example of a loving couple with more than 50 years of a good marriage under their belt. They witnessed the devotion we felt for each other and our pain when parting each day. These caregivers were young and saw in us what they wanted in their relationships.
I tried to tell them that, in 53 years of any marriage, there are many peaks and valleys — that I could be the partner from hell when my frustrations were running the show. They didn’t believe me and fussed over the photos in his room showing a happy young couple with their smiling family. They saw our children and grandchildren visit and show so much affection to Don and me. The kids often would leave handwritten notes, drawings and even stuffed bears.
I have been living alone in our house for more than a year now. There are so many little things I took for granted before illness took Don away from me. I didn’t realize how those little everyday things were the fabric that held us together so securely.
He was everything around that house, including the gardener who made beautiful roses bloom for more than 50 years. Those roses faded as his days were running out.
He was my handyman, ready to fix anything that broke with his golden hands and keen mind. He was my exterminator — if a bug appeared in the house, all it took was one scream from me and he came running.
He took care of the difficult financial matters, leaving me feeling free from worry. He was an entertainer, making our grandchildren giggle with his crazy humor.
He was the family sage, as our grown children turned to him for strength and wisdom. And he made sure I got my quota of hugs every day and told me he loved me each night.
Most of all, when I came home, he was always there. I didn’t have to experience the loneliness of an empty house. He was always waiting for me.
I wish I had fully appreciated all those little big things every moment we had together.
A few weeks ago, when my husband was put in hospice, I went to the mortuary without him to purchase our “home” for eternity — something we always planned to do together. It is about a mile away from our little house where we lived for so many years.
It gives me comfort to know that Don — dearest grandfather, father and husband — has come back home to his beloved Hollywood Hills. He died on March 27.
I don’t know what happens next, but I would like to think of him at peace, waiting for me.
Do you have a story about dating, marriage, singlehood or any important relationship in your life? Email us at meant2be@jewishjournal.com.
LYNNE GOLDKLANG is a psychotherapist, author, mother, grandmother and recent widow.
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