Friendma I sent you a hug and a message I lost my first wife in a instant in a road accident. If she had lived I was told she would have been a cabbage. at the time I wanted a live cabbage. Now I can see what pain I missed. But you did have had the chance to say a long goodbye. But you had to pay a terrible price All my love and best wishes.
perhaps my own thoughts will give someone else the comfort and support as they struggle to accept the reality and enormity of the changes the spouse must endure as they watch their loved one go down that lonely path.
A SINGLE SHADOW
Ours has been a long marriage – 54 years – and was not always the happily-ever-after we dreamed of. We had many ups and downs, as most marriages have, but we managed to raise three wonderful children and now have six equally adorable grandchildren. Many times we were tempted to go our separate ways, but there was always that bond that simply would NOT be broken.
Unbeknownst to either of us, there was an evil, insidious force that would do what neither of us could do – it would sever that bond surreptitiously. For years it lay in wait, giving no sign of its existence. Yet it was weaving a web that could never be untangled, in the most secret part of his body, his mind, that part that made him who he was. It was under attack and we had no ammunition with which to fight back.
By the time the tell-tale signs began to appear, we still didn’t put a label on it, but attributed his memory lapses to normal aging. In time, the doctor did give it a name and our trials began in earnest.
While his memory continued to deteriorate, the responsibilities of everyday life became mine to handle alone. We had always worked as a team so I knew how to take the reins and carry on. Many times his mind rebelled against me and I know he felt he was losing all control and that I was deliberately taking his life away, piece by piece.
No amount of reassurance could convince him otherwise, however I continued to consult with him before making any major decisions and he always agreed. He knew that he could trust me to do the right thing and he usually gave good advice. That part of his reasoning power was still functioning albeit on a limited short time basis. Within hours he’d accuse me again of going behind his back and not letting him be involved. And so it went.
His short attention span, poor eyesight and inability to follow simple directions pushed him further down the destructive path. The most devastating thing as far as he was concerned was that I had to take the car keys away and not let him drive anymore. His focus from then on was on those keys and his lack of a driver’s license.
By the end of the tenth year, the biggest decision of both our lives had to be made, moving him to assisted living.
No matter how long you try to mentally prepare for that eventuality, when the day finally arrives, when you have to walk away and leave him alone among strangers – the reality is that you simply are not totally prepared. The guilt, the feeling that you’ve betrayed him, abandoned him and a thousand other doubts set in. No amount of support or reassurance from others can ease that pain. You just have to work through it, hour by hour and day by day.
You can read the similar stories written in discussion groups and eventually understand that what you feel is almost totally universal among caregivers, but that only helps a little.
As I said, those ugly, invasive tentacles attached to that disease known as dementia or Alzheimer’s continues to hold fast on your emotions, trying to suck you further down until you slide into its depths also….at least that’s what you feel.
As you continue on in the sunshine, you now cast a single shadow. The one who has been at your side for half a century walks alone toward the sunset, fading toward the nothingness of existence without memory.
Does the pain ever go away? I don’t know for I’ve just begun my lonely walk. I have the love and support of family and friends and I’m certain that over time the pain will ease. But will it go away completely? I doubt it!
As Patti Davis wrote about her father, Ronald Reagan and his final journey, it’s a long, long goodbye.
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