Alzheimers

This morning at the Hallmark store an older couple walked toward me as I was making my choice.  The woman looked at me with an incredible intensity, and said, “Kiss me!” 

Her husband redirected her toward the shelves with the cards, and apologized.  He said, “That’s the Alzheimer’s talking.  Nothing good about that at all”.  He was obviously embarrassed that his wife would say this to a total stranger, but I assured him that I understood, and that he didn’t need to worry. 

As I continued looking for the cards I needed, I kept an eye on the couple.  He continued guiding her from card to card,   She clearly wasn’t going to contribute meaningfully to the selection, but this man wanted to share that part of the Christmas season with the woman with whom he had spent his life, for as long as he can. As I left, I stopped to touch the man on the shoulder, and just thanked him. 

Throughout the day, the memory of this couple has stayed with me.  I wonder about the life they had together – and the love they must have shared; the legacy of love that endures enough that he continues to carry her through this final stage.  I wondered about the children they may have nurtured and raised together – and perhaps the grandchildren they came to know and love. 

As we rear our children, each year—sometimes each week—brings evidence of their continuing development from total dependence to full independence and an existence as our fellow adults.  There are so many opportunities for joy and recognition as this evolves. 

How different it is to care for one whose light is slowly fading before your eyes.  The person who once made us laugh, cry, scream – who filled our heart with all the range of emotions we have the capacity to feel; slowly losing touch with the outside world, then even their interior.  There is no anticipation of any improvement – except for those who look forward to a better existence after we shuffle off our mortal coil. 

I’ll never know this man, but I admire him – as I admire other people I know—including some very close to me—who surrender so much to care for loved ones who can no longer care for themselves.  A Supreme Court justice once responded to a question about obscenity by saying that he couldn’t define it, but ‘I know it when I see it.’  I don’t know that I could offer a reliable definition of love, but I too know it when I see it.