It's sundowning time. I've been asked to come for sundowning time every day. I'm walking with my husband along the hallway that lines the circumference of the place. We go around once, twice, three times, expending any nervous energy that might be building up. But he doesn't seem agitated at all. He is doing well today. We are making "conversation."
"Where do you live?" I ask.
"Here," he responds.
"Do you like it here?"
"Yes."
"Is the food good?"
"Yes."
"Do they treat you well?"
"Yes."
"Are they friendly?"
"Yes."
"What's your name?"
"Me."
"What's my name?"
"That girl."
He seems to be settling in. He does not beg to go home or cry when I leave. He didn't even do that on the first day. I suppose I should find comfort in this, at least. And I do, sort of. But it's so, so hard. And our house seems so, so empty.
That just seems so tough........... I wish you well. On, on!
ReplyDeleteYou are correct, my friend. This is tough indeed...right up there above ten on the one to ten scale. I have not (yet) lost my mind, as near as I can tell. So that's good. Pray for me.
DeleteI can't imagine. It's encouraging that he's not miserable or feeling a sense of loss. The same cannot be said for you, my friend. I hope you are finding some comfort in him not suffering. But wow. He's still as vibrant as ever, in your mind and heart, and in the home you shared together. Untarnished. Undiminished, unless perhaps because of recent memories... but this is going to become as much a part of the "new you" as the memories of the days before Alzheimer's. You're navigating this as well as anyone can, and your faithfulness is such an encouragement to me as Linda and I face similar days ahead.
ReplyDeleteIt's intense, Mike. Thank you for your words of encouragement as we navigate these parallel waters. Your faith as expressed in your blog and comments and messages reinforces mine. God is good. He knows what we need, and He provides it.
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