Alzheimer’s is an insidious disease. It creeps up on you and your family and before you know it you have a stranger in your house. People who were once a vibrant contributing part of the community are reduced to lost wanderers. Traveling places only they can go. Sometimes, when you least expect it, they peek out at you and remember. Then just as fast, they disappear once more.
Last week, Tom had a late meeting out of town and Swan was at an after-school function, so I was on the Power-Shake & Laundry Visit to Tom’s Mom. I never know what I will find when I arrive, so armed with a fortified chocolate malt (Mom is down to 84 pounds and not eating meals, but loves a good malt!), a cup of hot tea to counteract the chill of the malt, a bag of laundry (I do her laundry twice weekly so Dad doesn’t have to), and an umbrella to hold off the MONSOON that was happening while I was trying to get into the nursing facility.
We had one of our better visits. She mostly remembered me. Mostly as her daughter, not her son’s wife. Sometimes she thinks I am the wife of Tom’s ex-wife. Sometimes I am simply that nice holiday food lady.
We visited, she had her malt & tea, and I gathered dirty laundry and hung the clean. I hugged her good-bye and she told me she loved me. And I headed out into the downpour.
I started the car and my CD player was playing The Dixie Chick’s “Taking the Long Way Home”. About half way home, this came on:
Last week, Tom had a late meeting out of town and Swan was at an after-school function, so I was on the Power-Shake & Laundry Visit to Tom’s Mom. I never know what I will find when I arrive, so armed with a fortified chocolate malt (Mom is down to 84 pounds and not eating meals, but loves a good malt!), a cup of hot tea to counteract the chill of the malt, a bag of laundry (I do her laundry twice weekly so Dad doesn’t have to), and an umbrella to hold off the MONSOON that was happening while I was trying to get into the nursing facility.
We had one of our better visits. She mostly remembered me. Mostly as her daughter, not her son’s wife. Sometimes she thinks I am the wife of Tom’s ex-wife. Sometimes I am simply that nice holiday food lady.
We visited, she had her malt & tea, and I gathered dirty laundry and hung the clean. I hugged her good-bye and she told me she loved me. And I headed out into the downpour.
I started the car and my CD player was playing The Dixie Chick’s “Taking the Long Way Home”. About half way home, this came on:
These walls have eyes
Rows of photographs
And faces like mine
Who do we become
Without knowing where
We started from
It's true I'm missing you
As I stand alone in your room
Everyday that will pass you by
Every name that you won't recall
Everything that you made by hand
Everything that you know by heart
And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this silent house
One room
Two single beds
In the closet hangs
Your favorite dress
The books that you read
Are in scattered piles
Of paper shreds
Everything that you made by hand
Everything that you know by heart
And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this silent house
Silent house
In the garden off the living room
A chill fills the air
And the lilies bloom
And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this silent house
And I will try to connect
All the pieces you left
I will carry it on
And let you forget
And I'll remember the years
When your mind was clear
How the laughter and life
Filled up this silent house
The song is called “Silent House” and it was written about families dealing with Alzheimer’s.
We have just cleaned out most of her belongings, taking most of them to charities, because she doesn’t need or remember any of them.
I have saved the special pieces. To make sure there are things to carry on. To pass on. To make sure we never forget. So we have memories of the laughter before the loss.
T
I worked on the Alzheimer's unit for years. Every day was new, both for them and for us. I came to understand the pure, honest joy a daughter, husband, any family member would feel when their loved one recognized them that day.
ReplyDeleteThere were two women on the unit I remember who had, for whatever reason, bonded in an especially strong way. They were so inseperable that we ended up having to make them roommates in order to get either of them to go to bed. The mind is a funny thing, and none of us could ever figure out why these women couldn't recognize their husbands of 30 and 40 years, but every day they "knew" each other.
In talking to the one husband who had been sitting watching them, excluded from their private world, I asked him if he was dealing okay with this special bond they have.
He looked at me, blinking back tears and smiled. "I'm just happy that she's not forgotten how to love, no matter who she gives it to."
I know a lot of people -family- would think "why visit? she doesn't remember me or know if I came or not." But they do. They remember the emotions, they remember how to love. Who needs a name when you have that?
kaya
powerful.
ReplyDeletethank you.
Beautiful T, the post and your heart.
ReplyDeletemagdala~
Very good post. I read it aloud to my roommate. The song you included made it especially meaningful. Kaya's story is a beautiful one, too, and adds to my insight into AD. Thank you for caring for Tom's mom.
ReplyDelete