You're the One

August 30, 2018

It was music therapy time once again, and we were slowly meandering around the courtyard, hand in hand, he with the headphones and I with the ear buds. He stopped, turned, and looked at me. I smiled up at him, our faces close together. His face lit up with a mix of recognition and excitement and tenderness, briefly, his beautiful eyes clear and looking right into mine, "You're the one! The one...," and his gaze drifted as his words faded away.

What was he going to say before he forgot what he was saying? I tried to fill in the blanks:  Am I simply the one who comes to see him, holds his hand, and spends time with him? The one who smiles and laughs and sings and dances? Or am I "the one" who spent a lifetime at his side, loving him and supporting him through thick and thin? The one who's lost without him and whose heart longs for him? The one who's so encouraged whenever there's any connection at all? The one who means more to him than anyone else in the world? The one he loves? That one? Me?

Generally speaking, I assume that he knows who I am at least some of the time. But on this occasion, I didn't have to assume anything. I knew. I knew that he knew me, even if was for a brief moment.

And as I sit here telling you about it, my heart leaps once again. The fact that he was able to string meaningful, relevant words together is in and of itself a minor miracle. But the fact that they were these particular words of recognition took my breath away and made my spirit soar.

Even at this late stage of Alzheimer's, we are continuing to make memories. I am, anyhow. Each one of these special moments is a gift for me to treasure. He knew me. And I'm "the one."