If I was a kinsugi bowl, there’d be more cracks than pristine pottery.

Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powered gold, silver or platinum, treats breakage and repair as a part of history of an object, rather than something in disguise.

When Rich and I married in 2002, I was already broken, having endured my mother’s narcissism and machinations. Our fairy tale marriage healed the wounds. Together we overcame obstacles, eventually finding ourselves in our dream house on Whidbey Island, overlooking the Puget Sound.

Two years later, in May 2019, a motorcycle accident shattered both our lives. Rich losing his left leg and triggering the start of Alzheimer’s disease, following a craniotomy to fix an aneurysm. Me, breaking the bones in my left leg in five places.

I became a caregiver the moment Rich returned home. From a wheelchair, I cooked meals, attempted to clean the house, worked remotely, coordinated medical appointments, helped him with his phone and PC, and much more.

No amount of crying and wishing could bring back the Rich I depended on. He was always the mainsail in our relationship and me the jib. For several years, I flapped in the wind, looking for a lifeline… relief from the horrific anguish that Rich’s memory and cognition were declining, and I had to step up and take over our finances, household decisions, and communications with the outside world.

It wasn’t until I joined a local caregiver support group that I realized my resentment, frustration, short-fuse, and exhaustion wasn’t abnormal for someone caring for someone by themselves. You’re not only dealing with the loss of the person you loved, but having to respond to their daily needs and mood changes.

I knew 2025 was the last year that Rich could remain at home. Steadily, I worked towards learning all aspects of maintaining our house and managing our household, including driving Rich’s mammoth Nissan truck (mammoth to me), so I could dispose of yard waste and get pea gravel, mulch and topsoil.

Fortunately, I remained steadily employed with my contract, supporting several teams at Microsoft, renewed through June 2026. Plus, Rich was collecting Social Security, and we had rental income from our Mount Vernon house.

In March, we joined Rich’s kids in Las Vegas and Bullhead City, Arizona to disperse of the ashes from Rich’s mother, Donna, and her third husband, Ted. It was enjoyable; although, my attempts to start a conversation about Rich’s future and my struggles as a full-time caregiver were met with “It’s hard,” “Good point,” and “You just do wifey things.”

In May, I took Rich to Sequim and Port Angeles, where we stayed two nights in an adorable, restored caboose and attended a huge art festival.

The summer breezed by with pleasant weather and an abundance of produce and flowers from our garden. When not tending our garden, I was active in Master Gardener activities, dragging Rich to talks and eliciting his help in the Education Garden.

In April, Jiniko Moxie, my beloved feral Siamese, got out again, and this time, she disappeared within a few days, most likely eaten by a coyote. I was devastated, but eventually replaced her with Ophelia, an itty-bitty, semi-feral, all-white cat with one blue, and one green eye. It took Ophelia several months to get acclimated, but once she did, she bonded with Mingze, one of our flame-point Siamese.

We also adopted Tzuki, a five-month-old black and white terrier that was born in eastern Washington and hosted by a rescue agency two hours south of us. He became my little buddy, except when he goes outside and sprints around the neighborhood, obvious to my calling him. His best friend is Puff, a Japanese spitz that leaves next door with Zuzu, a gorgeous, well-mannered border collie.

In July, I hired an art therapist, Julia, who worked with Rich, two days a week. Rich was skeptical at first, but soon looked forward to her visits. I could hear them laughing in the kitchen as they did art from watercolors to paper mâché. She enriched both our lives and will continue to visit with Rich.

In October, Stacey, her husband, Rich, and I journeyed to Lake Tahoe to visit Rich’s younger brother, Philip. I was thrilled that they could spend several hours together, catching up. The rest of the trip was filled with visits to Virginia City, Palisades (formerly Squaw Valley), and other memorable sites.

Two weeks later, a hearing was held to determine Rich’s guardian and conservator. Knowing Rich wanted to continue living at home and I was planning to place him in assisted living, his kids hired a lawyer to fight me.

I was shattered. His kids were oblivious to my physical, mental, and emotional struggles. Neither one had spent significant time caring for Rich over the past six and a half years. His son hadn’t seen or talked to him since May.

A few weeks later, the unexpected happened. Rich decided he wanted to check out Regency on Whidbey, a large, assisted living community in Oak Harbor. A tour and scoop of Oreo ice cream won him over. In early December, Mickey, the giant Siamese, and him moved into a large studio apartment, which I furnished with funky furniture, colorful linens, and handmade, ornamental pillows.

A second guardianship hearing was held before he moved into Regency. Despite Rich telling a neutral lawyer that he wanted me as his sole guardian and conservator, Rich’s daughter proposed that she become his guardian and a neutral conservator appointed.

A third hearing is going to be held in early March. I’m not sure what his kids are trying to accomplish. It’s not bolstering Rich’s health and safety. It’s simply shining a light on their disconnect and disregard for my well-being.

In the meantime, Rich loves his serene studio apartment, upscale atmosphere, and talking to the “ladies.” While I’m more rested, I’m dealing with a tsunami of emotions and tears. Letting go of Rich, my prince, my lover, my everything is further cracking and fissuring me. Memories that I suppressed for years are bubbling to the surface, not easily pushed down.

I’m also visiting Rich several times a week, along with texting and chatting throughout the day. Last Sunday, we enjoyed listening to the Whidbey Community Chorale, and the day before, we found treasures at the Value Village in Bellingham.

My message for this holiday season is cherish every day. It could change in a millisecond. Believe in yourself and what you’re capable of achieving. Purge those who don’t support you and nurture those who do.

And Tzuki says, adopt a rescue cat or dog!

Call or text Rich: 360-770-7111
Send a card or visit Rich: Regency on Whidbey, 1040 Kimball Drive, Room #207, Oak Harbor, WA 98277

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