Alzheimer Awareness and the walk to end it <3
This Saturday our community will be invited to gather at Fairview Park for the annual Walk to End Alzheimers. Registration opens at 8 am, the opening ceremonies are at 9 am and the walk begins at 9:30.
October is a huge month of awareness for many diseases and conditions that affect the lives of so many. This one is close to our hearts as we saw the ravages it took on my dad in his latter years.
He passed away early morning on the anniversary of his wedding to his beloved wife in 2010. I am sure of all the things he struggled to remember, that was a date buried deep in his heart and after she preceded him two years before, he decided to celebrate that one with her.
For anyone who has lost a loved one to Alzheimers, you know you lose them long before they actually leave planet earth. It is a slow and painful grief that typically finds us more relieved than sad when they depart.
But over time, the wounding of watching them struggle is healed and we can begin to remember the person they were to us before the disease stole them.
Every year I share this same post that I wrote as I sat crying hot tears in the car one night, ironically in October of 2010, having just left my father slumped in a wheel chair.
I share it because every year when I put out the little pumpkin decoration pictured above, I remember how difficult it was and I pray for those who are walking through it now or are grieving their own story.
From my heart October 2010:
It really is the end.
A wheelchair replaces the bow-legged walk down the hall. Sweat pants and sweat shirt replace the soiled pants and button down shirt with the inevitable pocket to keep his notebook in.
He isn’t angry, but he isn’t really happy either. Just in a fog.
I think he knows me, but hard to tell.
Trying to make conversation, his words are nonsense.
He is embarrassed because he couldn’t swallow his medicine and now it is a wet spot on his shirt. He looks at me, but doesn’t see.
It isn’t like I wish he was the way he was before. That wasn’t any better.
Just a different kind of awful. I don’t feel sorry for me.
It hurts more than anyone can know, but I don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t feel sorry for him either.
It’s just another part of life for both of us.
Another part that is hard and seems cruel, but it’s just another part.
In it are sweet things.
Things like a fall pumpkin he made in crafts.
It’s obvious he had a lot of help, but still he thinks he made it.
When I tell him it is beautiful, and I really mean it because it is, he thanks me in his own way.
Though the words make no sense, I can tell by the way he moves his head what he is saying.
When I think of how my mom was spared the pain of this, I can’t stop thanking God. I can’t think of anything but how thankful I am to Him that she never had to see this.
I am thankful it is not my sister.
I am thankful it is me.
When I told him I love him, he said “me too”.
I asked him if he meant he loves me or he loves himself.
He laughed.
I am going to believe he got the joke and it made him laugh.
The laugh and the pumpkin are enough for today.
God’s grace poured out for one more visit, tangible in a fall decoration on the seat next to me.
Tomorrow will bring another dose of grace for that day.
Tonight the tears flow from my tiredness.
Tomorrow will bring new mercies.
written after one of the last visits I had with him where he seemed to somewhat be able to visit in his own way
As always, gentle prayers for all who are walking through this with a loved one. Compassionate prayers for those who still grieve. Prayers of gratitude to Russ and our children and the dear friends who lifted me up and carried me through those years. Prayers for a cure. Prayers for healing. Prayers for those who serve our loved ones daily when their care is beyond our ability to help. Prayers of thanks to God for a dad who loved us and would have walked through fire himself to spare us.