Letting It Go and Letting It Be In Dementiaville

When Romeo lived at home with me, I helped him with whatever he needed help with, whether he asked for it or not. I anticipated what he might need help with and did it before he knew he needed it.

And yes, perhaps I even indulged Romeo. I gave him everything I could, and then some. I was his set of eyes, his ears, his memory, his arms, his legs, and his sense of touch, taste, and smell, his everything. I was an extension of him. And why not? I loved him like I've never loved another, and this was a way to show it.

What I didn't think of then is how I was absolutely spoiling Romeo rotten. Of course, to me it didn't feel like I was spoiling him. I simply put myself in his place and asked what I would have liked from my caregiver, and the answer that came up is what I did for Romeo.

Now that Romeo lives in a nursing home, there is no one-on-one care. This is a shock. To him, and to me as well. Romeo's every wish is not my command, and I can't make it anyone else's command. In Romeo's life at the nursing home, all of his needs are met, as they were met at home with me. But not nearly as quickly, not as immediately, not as urgently. And he feels it, as do I. He feels the frustration, the lack of control, the sadness of me not being there to give him what he wants.

Romeo has not done well in letting go of that, letting go of the one-on-one care he received when he lived at home with me. He hasn't let go of wanting what he wants, when he wants it. I too had a difficult time in letting go of the fact that Romeo's can't have his every desire when he wants it.

But it's a little easier for me to let go, to realize that he is frustrated, to let it be. I can't change it now, and I would not have changed it then. Loving Romeo, giving him his heart's desire, was my joy. It was my conscious choice. And now, we both have to let it go, simply let it be. And that, too, is a conscious choice.