You're My Girl

January 14, 2019

It's normal to feel a mixture of emotions when visiting a loved one in a care facility. You might experience guilt or grief or inadequacy. You might feel like a failure because you totally intended to keep your loved one at home until the bitter end, but then you discovered the truth in what others had been telling you for months or years. You can't do this part by yourself. This, my friends, is not an easy thing to accept.

As time goes on, you see that your loved one is comfortable in his or her new surroundings. You see that the caregivers are professional and know what to do in difficult circumstances. You see that they really do care, and they can accept your loved one as he or she now is without being tormented or burdened by memories of who he or she once was. And you see that you can spend time with your loved one that is "quality" even though there's very little about it that would seem like "quality" to other people.

When he's having a good day, hours with my husband seem like minutes. Sitting next to him, holding his hand, rubbing his back, running my fingers gently through his hair, smiling up at him, touching his cheek, and encouraging him as we listen to music together...the hands on the clock continue to move, but time stands still. Just for those moments, we are the only two people in the room.

Yesterday, we were enjoying one of those good days together. He slipped his arm around me comfortably as we sat together. Physical touch has always been important to us, as it is for most couples. It was the most natural thing in the world, really.

"You're my girl," he said so softly I almost didn't hear it.

It was a moment to cherish, a gift. There have been quite a few moments to cherish, it seems, and I am so grateful for the comfort and healing they bring to my heart. They are treasures that keep us bound together as tightly as we've ever been, even though we're apart.