A True Story of Balancing Loss and Life With Dementia

Featuring Romeo and Juliet Archer

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Showing posts with label memory loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memory loss. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Open Letter to the Universe from a Caregiver

Dear Universe,

On behalf of the people throughout the world who live with dementia and the people who require help with daily living, as well as their caregivers and loved ones, this request comes from the heart of our hearts, from the center of the center of our beings.

We have been entrusted with the important and difficult task of taking care of a loved one. We work long, hard, intense hours, and we do it because our loved one needs us to, wants us to. We do it because in one way or another, you asked us to. This is by far the most difficult thing many of us have ever done, will ever do.

So please, help us. Help us to see clearly. Help us to remember that our intention in taking care of our loved ones is to make sure they are the ones who are comfortable, that they are the ones who need attention, that they are the ones who need understanding. And help us to remember that we are the ones who also need to be taken care of, that we are the ones who must be rejuvenated, that we are the ones who must love ourselves more than anyone else. And help us to remember that unconditional love goes a long way in caring for our loved ones, as well as ourselves.

Help us to remain the solid rock foundations that we are, to hold our ground and be ruthless when advocating for our loved ones, to be adept at navigating the steps that make up our days. Help us to see that the disease itself is what makes our loved ones sometimes act in ways they would never have done normally. Help us to be forgiving of our loved ones, to be forgiving of ourselves, and to be forgiving of others who do not understand our plight or the plight of our loved ones. Help us to breathe deeply and to know we are breathing in your love, the love that permeates the Universe.

And as we go about our day, please wipe away our tears and vanquish our frustrations. Remind us of the honor we have in caring for our loved ones. Help us to know, to know within each cell of our bodies, that whenever we respond to a request from our loved ones, each time we help them tie a shoe or button a shirt or pick up a fork, help us to see that we are actually serving you, the Universe, that our loved ones are the Universe, just like we are the Universe. We are serving the Universe.

Finally, help us know that we would do it all over again in a heartbeat, from the heart of our hearts, from the center of the center of our beings. We would do it again.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

The Boys Visit Romeo in the Nursing Home

Romeo forgot that my grandchildren, Justin (11 years old) and Jason (6 years old), were coming to visit him in the nursing home, so he was happily surprised to see them. Lack of memory sometimes has advantages. In Romeo's world, there is often no anticipation of an event, no inkling that a pleasant experience is about to happen. When it catches him by surprise like this visit did, his experience is that much sweeter.

The exuberance of children, no matter the event, can permeate an entire area. No doubt, Justin and Jason were excited to see Romeo, and the entire nursing home knew it. Romeo and the boys became instant celebrities as the residents, visitors, and staff focused their attention on them. They walked into the building and down the hall, unknowingly spreading their joy as a fairy sprinkles her magic dust. Everyone they passed burst into a colorful balloon bouquet of joy, their faces floating in the airiness created by the boys' presence.

We brought Romeo gifts: two new pairs of linen pants, a bar of dark chocolate, steamed soy milk, and an oatmeal raisin cookie. These days his wants are simple, yet the pleasure he receives from them is disproportionately immense. The pants are tucked away, waiting their turn to be laundered and worn. The chocolate and milk and cookie have been consumed. Only the joy remains.

Later, having dinner with Romeo seated at a table with other residents, the entire room was abuzz with their presence, all three of them. Romeo, the proud grandparent, and Justin and Jason, the innocent reminders that life, no matter where you are in it, no matter where in the world you are, no matter what age you are, and no matter what your present mood, life...well...life is sweet.