I’m reading John Bayley’s memoir of his wife Iris Murdoch. I’ve read it before but I read it now with more relish and, I think, more understanding. I say understanding because I am bringing my new found knowledge of dementia and that of being married longer to the experience. He writes with such ease, and enjoyment. He clearly loved her but he also let her be. How important a quality that is in marriage. I didn’t know this before. He talks about relishing (my word, not his) the solitude of marriage, by which I think he means that they both retained their automony while together (a quality that was eroded when Iris began to show signs of dementia when she would follow him everywhere. He writes about giving her a look when she made to join him at the kitchen table – his domain, presumably to work – and how she would immediately go into the living room to watch TheTeletubbies on the TV, only to be back again within 5 minutes.). Before that they remained separate. We do too. I am self-contained in this marriage, as I hope he feels he is too. There is no amalgamation, no blended, no loosening of identity. We are ourselves but together. This fact is, as it was with Bayley, immensely precious to me.
