Many thngs, actually. My husband had just survived a terrible malady, and was recovering, and yet I had confronted being alone, frightened by my inability to "save" him, and suddenly unsure of my personal resources for virtually the first time in my life. I had been writing pieces of a memoir for years, and had saved my poetry and some short stories. I thought about which women in my life I could "learn" from in this stage. I tried to recapture the things I had learned and weave them into the book. I learned that I actually had models who could provide comfort and purpose, even though they were no longer with me. I learned that writing about a possible future in which i am alone is comforting, and, surprisingly, really comforted my husband, who edited and asked good questions and supported my work as he convalesced. I learned that other people can relate to what I wrote--how was it to be socially inept and yet to need others, for example. Anxiety and isolation, and what, ahem, shopping can do...It's difficult to explain to others, but the process of writing and publishing was affirming, soothing, and renewing. For both of us. We are well now, sheltering, and trying to do whatever we can to share what we have with those who are experiencing lost income, lost resources, isolation, social distance...helping others gives one purpose. Purpose is absolutely essential. I learned that. "Place" as in, "shelter in place" is a different thing to different elders. So much, I learned, so much.
