ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter 159: Self-Respect

Ernie took pride in his “mighty right” — his strong right arm — and told stories about his great-grandfather Bozarth, who could bend a silver dollar in his right hand.

Ernie valued physical strength because he had a fighter’s mentality. Fisticuffs was one of his favorite words, and he also knew wrestling holds — the half nelson and the full nelson — that he demonstrated on me.

One afternoon in the hospital, with me at his bedside, he whispered two words: fancy footwork. I couldn’t fathom what he meant; I thought he was dreaming. But now I think I know what Ernie was thinking: It’ll take fancy footwork to get me out of this tight hold.

He also said, late: “Quit fooling me, Ernestina.”

Was he referring to my avoiding talk of his impending death? Or was he referring to my habit of questioning his doctors, talking to his nurses, staying night after night in his hospital room — putting on a show of love but really taking a perverse pleasure in the drama of his dying? Or wanting him to die quickly so I could get on with my life?

I was as sick as he was, only in a different way.

What I respect most now in myself is my ability, finally, to face pain.

I’m not escaping into mindless adventure or numbing myself with food or alcohol or work or sleep or another dysfunctional relationship. If I’m on an adventure, it’s this journey to find myself and to find Ernie. To do the inner work. To make spiritual progress.

It’s a spiritual journey I’m on . . . and it won’t end until I end.