The man himself

Word around the blogosphere is that actor Dennis Hopper, who is losing his battle to prostate cancer, is filing for divorce from his wife of 13 years. When the story broke last week, Hopper promptly wished his soon-to-be-ex the best but said he only wants to be surrounded by loved ones in the days ahead.

The wife’s friends are calling it a slap in the face. They claim Hopper wants to cut her out of his will before he kicks the bucket.

I have to admit that when I first heard the news, I thought it sounded heartless, even rash. I’ve heard of deathbed conversions. Even deathbed confessions. But a deathbed divorce? Well, that’s kinda of gangsta.

But then again, maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s a gutsy move more of us would admire if only we’d dig below the surface.

As is usually the case surrounding breakups, there’s likely more to the story. But leave it to those Access Hollywood types, who reported the “astonishing news,” to peg Hopper as some cruel and spiteful dead man walking.

Fortunately, I’ve taken the liberty of offering my unconfirmed yet expert theory in defense of the actor’s decision.

Hopper was diagnosed with cancer last year. His wife — his fifth by the way— stood by his side during the difficult time. A noble woman indeed. But there’s nothing like cancer to test the very core of a relationship.

A lot of couples don’t make it, as my boyfriend’s friend was kind enough to remind me on New Year’s Eve. To be fair, he speaks from experience. His ex-wife is a survivor, and her battle with the beast partly led to their demise. After they split up, he looked up statistics on how many married cancer patients wind up divorcing. Forty percent, according to some studies.

Initially, I was taken aback when he shared his unpleasant facts so soon after we counted down to midnight. But I realize now that he was just lamenting the breakup of his marriage.

Plenty of other couples though vow never to let each other go after cancer. In fact, I know more married survivors than I do divorced ones.

But what about the gray area? That in-between place where life rarely fits into neatly defined packages. This could be where Hopper dwells. In the gray space, there’s no right or wrong, good or bad, mean or nice. Here, once-healthy relationships sometimes run their course — even for cancer patients who have more yesterdays than they do tomorrows.

What I find most interesting about Hopper’s decision is that it challenges almost everything we’ve come to believe about living out one’s final days. Most of us grew up with images of the grieving spouse at the bedside, comforted by family and friends. So it’s a shocker to witness Hopper call a time-out late in the game and then change his lineup. Furthermore, we expect that when there is a breakup, it’s the healthy person who leaves the sick one, not the other way around.

Whatever the reasons for Hopper’s divorce, his notion of “loved one” no longer has room for his former spouse. It’s a bold move for sure, one I’m not convinced I could follow.

Chances are though he’s motivated by something far less sinister than hurting his wife. He could simply be grateful for the time he has left and plans to use it wisely. Or he may just want to be happy, no matter how bad the press.

Clearly, he refuses to let cultural norms dictate how he rolls. And why should he? Even in the face of a sobering prognosis, life is always there to be lived. The key is to do it with no regrets.