Play Misty for Me

Dating when you’re over 50 means that some of the people you date will be nearer the end of their lives than those you dated when in earlier decades. And I won’t pretend, that can be tough.

It adds a layer of emotional wear and tear when people you’ve dated, even loved, do their dance with death. There have been times when I wondered if it was my caring nature which meant I partnered up with this type of person more than most, or whether I was some form of Typhoid Mary 😉 but I promise there’s plenty I’ve dated who are not only still alive, but healthy.

Just not my friend Dave.

We met on a dating site, dated for a while on & off, before going on to become close friends. A clever man who shared his home with 2 gorgeous cats, we both loved jazz and talking till the cows came home. We went on long walks, shared laughter, deep discussions, had blazing rows, but there was also supportive hugs, endless willingness to listen, and the knowledge that each was totally and utterly in the other’s corner. We shared our dating dilemmas, doubts, wins and losses, and never missed a Sunday afternoon at the jazz club. We socialised together, we met each other’s families and, when things became serious with someone we’d met, we introduced them each to the other. Quite simply, what we shared was love – if in its non-romantic form.

But a little over a year ago, he told me he’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer, and I’ll be honest – it hit me hard. I was working as a dating coach at the time and found it increasingly hard to empathise with my clients’ negative experiences, ‘cos all I could think of was: if you could make as good a friend as I did in Dave, surely it would be worth it? It eventually led me to step away from coaching entirely to focus on writing – a decision I took a couple of months ago.

When I first met Dave, he was learning to play saxophone and I asked him to promise that – one day – he’d play Misty for me. While Misty is a song we both love, it’s the Client Eastwood film I was referencing – fortunately a reference he got immediately, and quite literally LOL’d . [For those not in the know, Clint play a DJ with a female fan, who rings requesting he “play Misty for me”…. only to turn into a stalker.]

He now won’t ever play Misty for me, but I am so grateful to have known him.

Despite being hit hard last year, his death has knocked me sideways, so I will be taking a short break from blogging. So as not to get maudlin – for Dave would never forgive that – let me ask you this question…

What triggers, events or experiences have caused you to take an unexpected turn or make a significant change in your life?

© Debra Carey, 2024

32 thoughts on “Play Misty for Me”

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  3. Sorry for your loss.

    Right before Covid hit, a friend from high school’s wife died suddenly. I wrote about loving like you are dying that day. A couple of weeks later everything shut down for Covid. During Covid, my son got really sick. All of that started me on the road to quitting the job that was destroying my mental health, taking a break, finding the farm, and eventually starting the job as a sub that is fulfilling.

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  4. Dave used exactly those words when I said to him “one day I’ll….” and I am trying to live by it.

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  6. I remember you writing that Tater, and I’m so glad it has led you to do a job you find so fulfilling. I’m hoping this will work out for me too.

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  7. I’m so sorry about Dave. Losing a platonic soulmate is incredibly painful. My grandmother outlived her husband and all of her contemporaries, and felt the loss daily, even though she had my uncle and his family nearby. As for a trigger of significant change, well, what a timely blog post you wrote. Two days ago I went no contact with all my siblings and one parental unit after I got some not great health news and there were various problematic reactions to it. As often as I have been there for all of them, either by phone or flying across the country to help out, it was eye-opening to see that the reverse is just never gonna happen. I expected to be very sad and lonely. So far, though, it’s been very peaceful to not have to be on call as the cheerful, supportive, and funny person who always helps out. It’s like shedding a burden I didn’t even realize I was carrying.

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  8. Oh Autumn, my heart goes out to you. While I completely understand the relief, I know from personal experience that there can be grief some time later, so please take a huge hug from me on account for when that feels needed. I understand your decision completely, and have walked that path myself – indeed am doing so at the moment after a realisation that my mother has NPD.

    If you would like to talk to someone who’s not in your daily life, please know that I am here.

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  9. That is so kind of you, Deb! I grabbed your details and saved them in case it’s necessary, so edit away! I expected to feel grief immediately, but I think I did all the crying before I blocked them. I’m not saying it’s forever, but oh! It is lovely to not have to walk on eggshells or feel constantly judged in conversations. It’s nice that you understand. How long did you stay out of contact with your mom?

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  10. I’ve been cutting down contact with her for a little while – made easier ever since she moved to the US to live with my sister, with whom I’ve had a difficult relationship too. But I’ve yet to go entirely no contact, so there’ve been a couple of days of triggering in May (hers & my birthdays and Mother’s Day) which have been difficult, but things will be easier again for a while. I love my other siblings to bits, but they can be completely hopeless when it’s time to get things done, so there are times when I totally get the whole friends are the family you choose thing.

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  11. Yeah, right now I have friends who are far more supportive, even as they are going through their own challenges. That’s a lot more helpful. And I’m sorry that you lost Dave as one of those.

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  12. I’m so sorry for your loss. Losing a close friend, a truly close friend like you had with Dave, is incredibly hard. I’m glad for you that you had him in your life for as long as you did. A friend like that told me that sometimes we share our journey with someone for only a little while. We need to celebrate the time we are together.

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  13. I’m so sorry you lost your friend, Deb. It sounds like you had very special relationship.

    My husband died at an early age, 59. Losing him was extremely difficult. And yet, I didn’t change my direction. I carried on with all the things we had planned to do. In fact, when I look back on those first couple of years, I’m amazed at all the difficult things I did. It was no wonder I ended up with a bad case of adrenal fatigue and a broken arm. (They say widows often break a bone in the first year.)

    I think all the turns I’ve made in my life were a result of (How can I say it?) thinking about my life and life in general and making a decision from there with no particular trigger.

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  14. I’m so glad you have supportive friends – when you go through health challenges in particular, they can be the difference between coping with grace and falling apart. My mother and sister were notable in being two who did not cope well with my getting cancer 15ish years ago, but fortunately I had lots of good friends who were there for me, while my mother and sister were demanding my attention and reassurances. When I look back now, I wonder why I do still speak to them…

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  15. Zazzy, thank you – that is my current focus. For there is no doubt that my life was immeasurable better for having had him in it. And there was much joy and laughter in those years too.

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  16. Oh Nicki, that is young, I’m so sorry. Keeping on keeping on can be admirable (and I do a lot of it myself) but adrenal fatigue and a broken arm too? I hope you were able to rest and recover fully after that challenging experience. I had not heard that about widows and broken bones – what an extraordinary statistic.

    It sounds like you were content with the plans you made with your husband, so no reason not to pursue them alone.

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  20. The two women I was involved with seriously post-divorce both died of cancer at ridiculously young ages after we broke up: one was 39, the other, 44. Even though I was no longer close with either of them, it still feels heartbreakingly tragic. Which is to say: I know your pain.

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  22. Thanks for sharing Mark – at least I don’t feel quite so alone with the Typhoid Mary card. Dave wasn’t quite that young, but then neither am I.

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  23. I am so sorry about your friend, Deb. I found a soulmate friend once at a time when I really needed one, and then she developed a glioblastoma and died about a year later. The loss was a hard one. It’s hard to lose those who chose you just because they want to, and not because of family obligation. Like someone else said, Covid was a wakeup call for me. It showed me things I needed and wanted to change, and I feel so fortunate that I was able to make changes happen. I hope some time away will be good for your healing.

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  24. Covid and the pandemic changed me. I never got the virus but began to live a more hermetic life because of it. Ultimately I’ve learned that I enjoy being a homebody and don’t crave much in the way of socializing. This was a surprise to me after years of planning to go out with friends, or have them over, most weekends.

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  26. I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your friend, Debs. Take good care of yourself and savor those many happy memories of Dave. How lucky you were to have known him and have had that kind of close loving relationship. Sending virtual hugs!

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  27. Really sorry to hear about Dave. Take time to process, and don’t worry about the blogging. I’m only blogging once a month now, for Insecure Writers’ Support Group. (And I was just full of admiration for you having written two blogs this week, one on Fiction Can be Fun.)

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  28. Thank you Rita, and I’m sorry to hear about the loss of your friend. You’re so right about the level of importance in value of those we choose (and/or who choose us) outside of family obligations. While I am heartsore and sad, I don’t doubt that a bit of time will be beneficial.

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  29. Ally, I’ve also found myself becoming more and more of an introvert when the passing of the years – and suspect that Covid accelerated that process. Where I’ve yet to figure out the right balance is in making sure I do those things which energise me, even if they’re now more of a solo or two-some activity. Ever a work-in-progress…

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  30. Thank you Marty, at the moment I’m just goofing around and reading, but I do plan to be more constructive with my rest period in due course.

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  31. So true Christie, friendship of that sort is very rare and I know how lucky I was to have had it. I look forward to the time when I can review those memories, even talk about them with joy and laughter again.

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  32. Rosemary, that’s where I’ve been with the fiction site this year – only blogging once a month, and have been grateful for my co-host picking up the slack. But I’ve fallen out of the habit of writing fiction and it’s important to get back into it. Flash fiction is how I started previously, so that’s why I’ve pushed myself to do so on a regular basis once more.

    And thank you for your kind words – much appreciated.

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