Last week, I had the opportunity to spend some time with "M" in her long-time home. "M" hadn't been there in almost a year, and during that time, her daughter had lovingly made some much-needed repairs to the residence, including brand new paint for the entire interior of the house and a lot of work on the plumbing!
I had not seen "M" since my last trip to her new Gulf Coast home over six months ago, and I was overwhelmed with joy at being able to see her again. Originally, the plan was for me to go up to The Woods, where I would join "M" and her daughter at the family camp. I had anticipated that I would spend two separate weeks with her in this magical setting during the month of August, and was very much looking forward to hearing her share more memories about the times she spent there.
Sadly, this visit was not to be. "M"s mobility had deteriorated to the point where it was difficult, as well as dangerous, for her to safely walk between the beloved buildings of the camp. Additionally, it was cold! The type of cold that, although well-fought off by the flames of a continuous fire kept burning in the main camp's beautiful stone fireplace, nevertheless chills the brittle bones of a ninety-one year old woman. Mother Nature, as we well know, can be quite unpredictable, and this was one of those times when late August in The Woods was destined to have a cold spell. Ironically, not long after "M" and her daughter returned to her home in lower New England, a hot spell was not far on their heels.
I have to admit that for the first time ever, I was a bit nervous about seeing "M" after all those months. This was the longest period (six and a half months) that I had ever gone without spending time with her, and I was worried about the "deterioration" that had taken place. Questions raced through my mind, the most disturbing of which was, "Would she know me?"
My answer was confirmed during the first of three visits with "M" at her home. After a warm greeting, which included a big hug, I asked the dreaded question: "Do you recognize my face?" "M" smiled in her usual joyous way, and my worries faded. But only briefly. I could soon sense a difference in "M", and knew what her reply would be before she even spoke the words. "I'm sorry, but I don't," she told me, shaking her head back and forth in apology. "That's okay," I assured her, gently patting her shoulder.
It was hard to hide the hurt I felt inside, but I put on my bravest face. I was confident that by the end of the day, however, she would begin to recall our "girlhood" friendship. "I'm an old friend who has come to spend some time with you." With those words, a glimpse of the "M" I had grown to know and love became quite visible, and she clapped her hands together, excitedly exclaiming, "What fun!"
There she was! My beloved "M"! I knew in my heart that whatever happened during this abbreviated time with her would unfold exactly as it was meant to be.
There were three visits in all over a two week period of time. "M"s daughter and I arranged the days that seemed best for me to be with her, and I was grateful for each and every one of them. My goal was to give "M"s daughter a respite so that she could work on a project for her job.
As I reflect on these visits a week later, they initially appear to be rather uneventful. We had tea in the mid-morning, while we conversed about memories from "M"s past. As was our pattern, "M" would start a sentence, and I would fill in the blank with the name of the person or thing she had in her mind, but couldn't quite "catch" the words. "Wow!' she said several times. "It's amazing that you remember that!" I didn't tell her that it was not a very difficult task, having heard the tales many times before. These wonderful stories were forever etched in my mind and heart.
Lunch was around noon, give or take a few minutes. The usual fare: a sandwich, some fruit, a glass of water or milk. Followed by some cookies shortly afterwards, as "M" and I again sat down to exchange tales of her past. Although "M" was clearly tired after lunch, she attempted to stay awake (I think the cookies had a lot to do with that!), and generally succeeded. Although offered a chance to lay down for a rest in her beautiful sleigh bed, "M" chose to stay up. It was as though she didn't want to miss a thing, and it dawned on me that this was how she led her entire life. Not missing a single beat. "What a glorious approach to one's time on this planet," I mused, vowing to maintain the same approach throughout the rest of my own lifetime!
Lunch was around noon, give or take a few minutes. The usual fare: a sandwich, some fruit, a glass of water or milk. Followed by some cookies shortly afterwards, as "M" and I again sat down to exchange tales of her past. Although "M" was clearly tired after lunch, she attempted to stay awake (I think the cookies had a lot to do with that!), and generally succeeded. Although offered a chance to lay down for a rest in her beautiful sleigh bed, "M" chose to stay up. It was as though she didn't want to miss a thing, and it dawned on me that this was how she led her entire life. Not missing a single beat. "What a glorious approach to one's time on this planet," I mused, vowing to maintain the same approach throughout the rest of my own lifetime!
"M" was no longer able to walk around the lush green grounds of the home she treasured, a typical activity after lunch, so we sat in a pair of matching chairs in her living room. I asked her if they were obtained during her father's antique furniture business when she was a young girl. "M" had a faraway look in her eyes, and did not answer. In fact, most of her responses were not as quick as they had been six months earlier, and it appeared difficult for "M" to remember things without my prompts. The undeniable and all too devastating signs of her Dementia were taking their tragic toll far too quickly than I'd hoped.
"We look like two peas in a pod!" I joked, trying to lighten up the situation. "M" laughed, and asked if I remembered when we were girls back in school. "Yes I do," I replied, a stroke of melancholy starting to play on my heartstrings. "Those were wonderful times," she said, the faraway look still visible. "Yes they were," I agreed, glad that she was now recalling our "connection," but sad that it took half a day to do so.
"I have an idea!" I exclaimed, jumping up from one of the matching chairs. "Let's listen to some music!" "M" loved to listen to classical music, and her former son-in-law, now caregiver of the home, had generously provided us with a wonderful selection of songs to entertain us. Knowing that "M"s favorite were the Waltzes of Strauss, I put the tape into the cassette player (Yes! Cassette Player! Other people treasure their ancient technological equipment as much as I do!) so that we could enjoy the tunes together.
Listening to this particular tape had become a favorite activity of "M"s, having begun about nine months ago during our Autumn stay in her home. As the music flowed through our souls, "M" and I were able to look out of the living room's many large windows. This day was actually cloudy, but I believe that "M" saw far beyond the gray into the bright blue skies that blanketed the beautiful green surroundings. As I looked into her eyes, I wondered if she was flying far above, dodging the clouds with playfulness and delight as she sat in the cockpit, totally in command of the plane's destination. And, of course, she would be doing rollovers! There was nothing she enjoyed more while up in the air than successfully completing a rollover! I closed my eyes, and tried to picture her completely in control behind the wheel. It wasn't a difficult image to conjure up. There have been times that I actually feel as though I'm flying too, just by listening to her!
The structured, third tempo music brought out another side of "M" that had also first emerged last fall. She liked to conduct the waltzes! One, two, three... One, two, three. Both arms up in the air moving in many different directions. I suspected there was no special rhyme or reason to her motion other than sheer enjoyment. Like the pilot of a plane, here she was, in sole command of the music. Everyone in the orchestra was playing to her direction, looking to her for guidance and leadership. She seemed completely in her element, and seeing her that way warmed my heart. I also decided to join her! If she could conduct her own orchestra, then I could certainly command one, too! After all, that's one of the qualities that we shared from day one of our relationship. We were two women who proudly marched to our own drummers!
By the end of our third interpretation of the "Blue Danube Waltz," it was time for me to gather my things and head out. I lived seventy miles north of "M"s home, so I wanted to get a jump on the usually heavy traffic. My shift was over. My mission through. As "M"s daughter wrote me out a check for my time over the three days spent with her Mom, we heard "M" ask the question I had been dreading all day. "So when will I see you again?" she asked me, hoping (I like to think) that it would be sometime soon.
I had no answer, nor did her daughter. There was no answer. "M" would be going down to her Florida home with her son in a few weeks, and a caregiving system had already been put in place there that did not include me. And understandably so. I lived a thousand miles away! And there were as yet no plans for her to return to her Northeastern home.
I couldn't speak. I wanted to say so many things to her before I walked out that door, mostly to thank her for the joy she had brought to my life during the past three years. And the inspiration. Before meeting "M", I was unsure what direction my own life would take next, having just closed the door on a path that led the wrong way. "M"s presence in my life had opened that next door, and beyond it was a bright future filled with elderly individuals who all had a very special story to tell. I knew in my heart and soul that I wanted to hear as many as I possibly could, and share them with others!
I kissed "M" on her beautiful white head, admiring her Great Snowy Egret gracefulness one more time, and walked out of "M"s door in tears, not uttering a word. The word "goodbye" did not want to come out of my mouth, and I decided not to force it. Besides, I would sound like a blubbering baby. By the time I climbed into my little blue Honda Fit, the color that "M" so adored, I was a weeping mess. I wondered if I would ever see my beloved "M" again, but knew I had to get the thought out of my head. No one knows what the future will bring, and life is best lived by staying in the moment.
It was time to let go and move on. And I already knew in which direction. As is always the way, another door had amazingly opened for me just as "M"s was closing, and it was time to build a brand new relationship with my new friend, "V", who will soon become featured in many of my blogs.
Don't worry. "M" will live on. There are many more stories that I have yet to tell, and as they come to my mind and heart, I will gladly, and gratefully, continue to share them with you.
The structured, third tempo music brought out another side of "M" that had also first emerged last fall. She liked to conduct the waltzes! One, two, three... One, two, three. Both arms up in the air moving in many different directions. I suspected there was no special rhyme or reason to her motion other than sheer enjoyment. Like the pilot of a plane, here she was, in sole command of the music. Everyone in the orchestra was playing to her direction, looking to her for guidance and leadership. She seemed completely in her element, and seeing her that way warmed my heart. I also decided to join her! If she could conduct her own orchestra, then I could certainly command one, too! After all, that's one of the qualities that we shared from day one of our relationship. We were two women who proudly marched to our own drummers!
By the end of our third interpretation of the "Blue Danube Waltz," it was time for me to gather my things and head out. I lived seventy miles north of "M"s home, so I wanted to get a jump on the usually heavy traffic. My shift was over. My mission through. As "M"s daughter wrote me out a check for my time over the three days spent with her Mom, we heard "M" ask the question I had been dreading all day. "So when will I see you again?" she asked me, hoping (I like to think) that it would be sometime soon.
I had no answer, nor did her daughter. There was no answer. "M" would be going down to her Florida home with her son in a few weeks, and a caregiving system had already been put in place there that did not include me. And understandably so. I lived a thousand miles away! And there were as yet no plans for her to return to her Northeastern home.
I couldn't speak. I wanted to say so many things to her before I walked out that door, mostly to thank her for the joy she had brought to my life during the past three years. And the inspiration. Before meeting "M", I was unsure what direction my own life would take next, having just closed the door on a path that led the wrong way. "M"s presence in my life had opened that next door, and beyond it was a bright future filled with elderly individuals who all had a very special story to tell. I knew in my heart and soul that I wanted to hear as many as I possibly could, and share them with others!
I kissed "M" on her beautiful white head, admiring her Great Snowy Egret gracefulness one more time, and walked out of "M"s door in tears, not uttering a word. The word "goodbye" did not want to come out of my mouth, and I decided not to force it. Besides, I would sound like a blubbering baby. By the time I climbed into my little blue Honda Fit, the color that "M" so adored, I was a weeping mess. I wondered if I would ever see my beloved "M" again, but knew I had to get the thought out of my head. No one knows what the future will bring, and life is best lived by staying in the moment.
It was time to let go and move on. And I already knew in which direction. As is always the way, another door had amazingly opened for me just as "M"s was closing, and it was time to build a brand new relationship with my new friend, "V", who will soon become featured in many of my blogs.
Don't worry. "M" will live on. There are many more stories that I have yet to tell, and as they come to my mind and heart, I will gladly, and gratefully, continue to share them with you.
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