I went to a new knitting group today. I'm a semi-regular at the one that meets through my church, and I like all of the people in that just fine. Heck, my former advisor from school is part of the group and one of the reasons I go is to see her and the fam on a regular basis.
But I was thinking the other day how, darn it, I don't have many friends that I have made since getting divorced. I am so pleased to have made friends with D, but I think she's it as far as post-divorce friends go. Something else I noticed lately was that, aside from D, I think all of my friends are married. And this isn't a problem or anything; it's just a different thing to try to make new friends when one is in a long-distance relationship.
Thus this new knitting group. Not that I'm dissing my first group or anything, but I thought that this might be a way to meet some new people. So I went tonight, and they were very nice and I will likely go back.
I had to leave a bit early to pick up Mr W. My former MIL was supposed to move to a different assisted living facility, and did so for about 24 hours before everyone realized that she actually needs more care than they are able to provide, so she had to go to the hospital and is going to move to another place.
It's weird. It didn't seem like anyone was in denial, but at one point it seemed like she might even be able to go back to the independent living apartment she's been at for a few years. Then she gets a bug and can't transfer herself from her wheel chair and all of the sudden she needs to sort of skip a level and go into a facility that's just a step below a nursing home.
My heart sinks when I think of what this means to her. I know she sees this as a sort of defeat, and nothing anyone can say would change her mind. NPR had a bit on post-polio syndrome (she had polio when she was 16) and they said how people continue to lose muscle mass as they get older.
Grrr. How does one find meaning in these last years? How does a person whose body has failed them continue to eek out a little bit of contentment? I know I need to be more involved, and that I need to be an adult about having to converse with my x about her. I mean, I'm just fine with more or less limiting conversations with him to talk of Mr W's needs.
Anyway, this part of her story will be unfolding over the next few days. I've already volunteered to help her put away stuff in her new place, and just want to be of some help, you know?