The Long Goodbye Transformed
Alzheimer's disease was described by someone as the long goodbye. It's a very apt title. Very few conditions allow loved ones to witness the dismantling of a person piece by piece in a seemingly haphazard way . Although the process was painful to watch, we were granted the privilege of seeing my father for eight years in his home with his wife of almost fifty years, interacting with his children and grandchildren. We had the time to witness small parts of our dad, memories we thought were gone float for a moment to the top. Those moments were brief but precious reminders of who the whole man was.
Everyone agreed that the time had come to put Daddy in a home. It was time for Mother to experience her own life, a life not always centered on her husband. She tried a local home but they did not understand the problems dealing with a wanderer. Daddy left at the first opportunity. In about 24 hours Mother had found a place about an hour away.
It certainly was not easy to make the trips to see him on a regular basis. Mother did see him regularly and came to know well the staff, patients and procedures of the place which now went through the motions of being home. We saw him on irregular visits to visit my mother. We would stop as we would go through the town where he now lived. Steve, our four children, and I would enter the ward as the door locked behind us. Often we would walk the halls with him seeking some safe conversations and never finding one.
We were never sure that he had any idea who we were. He seemed to share none of our memories. His apparent acceptance of our presence gave us our only hope that we were at all familiar to him. Our only brief glimpse of the man we had known came when Daddy would take note of the angles of the boards in the hallway or in his room. Even now he managed to find the type of structural abnormalities that had troubled him in the past. Each visit we struggled to find something to say. In my father's shrinking world his last meal had not happened, neither had my mother's last visit. Any family members that were not present did not exist. Our visits were short not because we lacked love but rather because we weren't wise enough to know how to fill the minutes or perhaps we didn't know how to live in the moment the way my father did.
Daddy had been in this home for a little over a year when again it was February 14. Valentine's Day is supposed to be the day for lovers but as is often the case few remember the origin of the holiday but many attach a personal significance to that date. We would all be overwhelmed if someone could tell us the number of marriage proposals as well as weddings that have occurred on this day. My parents had now been married 50 years. Mother arrived for the Valentine's Day party. In the midst of the festivities Laura and Olin were presented with a boutineer and a corsage. My brother had purchased a locket with their pictures in it that Mother still wears daily.
When I heard about what happened, my thoughts returned to the anniversary they had celebrated 10 years earlier. Our family was living next door to my parents while Steve returned to school for some graduate work. I was 3 months pregnant and already the mother of a 3 year old son as well as a 3 year old daughter, both adopted. When our daughter was born, she came by way of emergency c-section on January 22. At some point I realized my parents' 40th anniversary was coming in about 3 weeks. I know I felt compelled to arrange something special.
For obvious reasons this celebration could not be too grand. I found the right restaurant, one with a good reputation as well as an opportunity for ballroom dancing. My mother was the one who enjoyed dancing. My father would usually do just enough so no one could accuse him of being uncooperative. I decided on the small list of friends and relatives that would be coming, and I located the wedding pictures and the newspaper description of the wedding.
Two sisters from the neighborhood were to be our baby girl's first babysitters. I must have swallowed hard as I left my 2 toddlers and also my newborn in their trustworthy hands. My brother and his wife were coming all the way from Georgia. In light of their long trek they planned to meet us at the restaurant. It's difficult to remember all the details. I do remember the long table around which we all sat. I remember my brother and mother dancing and I remember the satisfaction that in spite of my nervousness everything went well.
Why was I so determined to do this? I was not the natural hostess. Party planning certainly wasn't my forte and I had just had a baby. I had no privileged glimpse into the future. I'm not sure I even knew what Alzheimer's was. I had no idea that any festivities for my parents' fiftieth would take place in the middle of a Valentine's day party at a nursing home.
The reason why such a party happened on my parents' fortieth must be for one reason only - the inexplicable kindness of God. Innumerable are the kind acts of our heavenly father. What would happen if suddenly God allowed us to see his graciousness that winds its way through our lives like a glistening golden thread, through the ordinary as well as the awful times? Adoration, that would be our first response.
Everyone agreed that the time had come to put Daddy in a home. It was time for Mother to experience her own life, a life not always centered on her husband. She tried a local home but they did not understand the problems dealing with a wanderer. Daddy left at the first opportunity. In about 24 hours Mother had found a place about an hour away.
It certainly was not easy to make the trips to see him on a regular basis. Mother did see him regularly and came to know well the staff, patients and procedures of the place which now went through the motions of being home. We saw him on irregular visits to visit my mother. We would stop as we would go through the town where he now lived. Steve, our four children, and I would enter the ward as the door locked behind us. Often we would walk the halls with him seeking some safe conversations and never finding one.
We were never sure that he had any idea who we were. He seemed to share none of our memories. His apparent acceptance of our presence gave us our only hope that we were at all familiar to him. Our only brief glimpse of the man we had known came when Daddy would take note of the angles of the boards in the hallway or in his room. Even now he managed to find the type of structural abnormalities that had troubled him in the past. Each visit we struggled to find something to say. In my father's shrinking world his last meal had not happened, neither had my mother's last visit. Any family members that were not present did not exist. Our visits were short not because we lacked love but rather because we weren't wise enough to know how to fill the minutes or perhaps we didn't know how to live in the moment the way my father did.
Daddy had been in this home for a little over a year when again it was February 14. Valentine's Day is supposed to be the day for lovers but as is often the case few remember the origin of the holiday but many attach a personal significance to that date. We would all be overwhelmed if someone could tell us the number of marriage proposals as well as weddings that have occurred on this day. My parents had now been married 50 years. Mother arrived for the Valentine's Day party. In the midst of the festivities Laura and Olin were presented with a boutineer and a corsage. My brother had purchased a locket with their pictures in it that Mother still wears daily.
When I heard about what happened, my thoughts returned to the anniversary they had celebrated 10 years earlier. Our family was living next door to my parents while Steve returned to school for some graduate work. I was 3 months pregnant and already the mother of a 3 year old son as well as a 3 year old daughter, both adopted. When our daughter was born, she came by way of emergency c-section on January 22. At some point I realized my parents' 40th anniversary was coming in about 3 weeks. I know I felt compelled to arrange something special.
For obvious reasons this celebration could not be too grand. I found the right restaurant, one with a good reputation as well as an opportunity for ballroom dancing. My mother was the one who enjoyed dancing. My father would usually do just enough so no one could accuse him of being uncooperative. I decided on the small list of friends and relatives that would be coming, and I located the wedding pictures and the newspaper description of the wedding.
Two sisters from the neighborhood were to be our baby girl's first babysitters. I must have swallowed hard as I left my 2 toddlers and also my newborn in their trustworthy hands. My brother and his wife were coming all the way from Georgia. In light of their long trek they planned to meet us at the restaurant. It's difficult to remember all the details. I do remember the long table around which we all sat. I remember my brother and mother dancing and I remember the satisfaction that in spite of my nervousness everything went well.
Why was I so determined to do this? I was not the natural hostess. Party planning certainly wasn't my forte and I had just had a baby. I had no privileged glimpse into the future. I'm not sure I even knew what Alzheimer's was. I had no idea that any festivities for my parents' fiftieth would take place in the middle of a Valentine's day party at a nursing home.
The reason why such a party happened on my parents' fortieth must be for one reason only - the inexplicable kindness of God. Innumerable are the kind acts of our heavenly father. What would happen if suddenly God allowed us to see his graciousness that winds its way through our lives like a glistening golden thread, through the ordinary as well as the awful times? Adoration, that would be our first response.
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