This was a hard read for me, but sometimes the hard reads are cathartic. Life is hard sometimes, and this story is about life, the real kind, the imperfect kind, the marvelous kind that is coming to an end.
Bo is 89 years old and has daily home health care. His wife, Fredrika, has dementia and is in a care facility; his son, Hans, is trying to stay alive in the world of careers and take care of aging parents; and his granddaughter, Ellinor, at twenty, is too young to fathom what eight-nine is like. What he has still got of his life is his dog, Sixten, and Hans is determined to take Sixten away because he feels his father no longer can take care of a dog and remain safe himself.
The story is told through the intimate thoughts of Bo, as he carries on a mental conversation with his wife, or with his memory of who she was before the dementia stole her away.
Because in the void you left behind, Fredrika, I’ve started thinking about things I never paid much notice to. I’ve never been one to doubt myself, always known what I want and been able to tell right from wrong. I still can, but I’ve also started to wonder.
Ridzen captures every emotion perfectly. The bewilderment, the confusion, the anger at others, at self, at life, the resentment of what others must do for you and the failure of your own body and brain to do for yourself, all of them are here. Bo knows he has reached an end, and he spends much of his time reviewing his life and his relationships, wanting not to leave this world with important feelings unexpressed.
I don't know how I feel, because I keep changing my mind. He sounds so miserable that I want to get up and open the door, tell him that everything will be fine. But at the same time, I can't understand why he is arguing with her, why he thinks Sixten should live somewhere else. It's like he really does want to hurt me.
There is a moment of memory when Bo decides to leave his father’s house to go out on his own, to begin his life. He watches the cranes and says to himself, Before they fly south again, I promise myself, I’ll have left this place. He has reached a time in life where he knows the cranes are about to depart again and, once again, he will go with them.
Three years ago yesterday I lost my husband. He was eighty-eight years old. Reading about Bo was like looking down a well into the past, so much was recognizable to me. Bo might have been Matt in much of what he thought and said. For all of us who reach old age, this day will come. If we are fortunate, we will have what Bo has–an opportunity to look back at the wonder of our lives, our triumphs and our mistakes; a chance to see who we have been.
I don’t believe in coincidence. I began reading this yesterday, totally unplanned. Perhaps in the back of my head I remembered what it was about, but consciously I did not. It just popped up on the Kindle and I started reading. When I finished, I had a good cry, kissed my husband’s picture and went to bed.