A Caregiver's Joy and Lament

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

-- Charles Dickens, in A Tale of Two Cities

It's over. It's been over. Romeo's dementia continues to take him away. Whatever he and I came together to do is ending. We've finished it. I continue to care for him, to look after him, to be there for him, to love him. But it's over.

My sorrow lives on, and it will for a time, but my life with Romeo is over. It's over before it had a chance to begin, to really begin.

My joy -- ah, this joy. So unlike my sorrow, this joy lives on. This joy continues to live. But the joy is not over. My joy is alive and will continue to live for as long as I do, and could very well live beyond my time. The joy of having had Romeo in my life, present in my life, the joy of loving him, the joy of having been loved by him, of being loved by him, in a way no one else has ever loved me -- that joy will always be with me. It will last a lifetime, and it will always be at the root, the base, of who I am, of what I'm about. It will continue to encourage me and remind me that once upon a time, not so very long ago, there was sorrow, yes...but it is joy that survives.