For over two decades, I have had the honour of leading an adult Sunday school class. Each week, we engage in a discussion of the “Joys and Concerns” of our members. Many of our members have parents who are rapidly aging or experiencing declining health. As a result, we frequently address the implications of these circumstances for the parents themselves, as well as for their siblings and even their grandchildren.
In the previous session, we discussed the case of one member’s mother. Another class member, who was unable to attend, sent me a text message to convey how much her father, who is suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, appreciated having the entire family over for Thanksgiving.
A few months ago, I had coffee with another member of the class. We discussed at length the division of labour among the siblings in caring for their parents, one of whom has dementia and the other of whom is becoming increasingly frail. It became increasingly apparent that the family required assistance, particularly in the form of encouragement and a willingness to contribute, even in a minimal capacity.
Upon our departure, the discussion prompted the recollection of a previously composed account, given the profound impact the experience had on me. The subject of the conversation was an elderly woman with whom my wife and I had formed a close bond during her final months.
As we were not officially designated as family, we were not privy to any of the medical details. Two facts were apparent to all, including the members of my Sunday school class who came to visit her and to care for her: The individual in question, who was not given her real name, had a mild-to-moderate case of dementia, which was not as severe as the staff had initially assumed.
In the final months of Kay’s life, I visited her on a daily basis. I ensured that she consumed at least some of the soft food I had brought for her, as the staff were insufficiently staffed to remain on hand to ensure that she ate the meals they had prepared for her. It was not until after her demise that I became aware of the extent to which she resembled my own mother, who passed away in 1992.
Kay was a source of mirth and amusement, with a keen wit and a delightful sense of humour. She simply required an individual to dedicate sufficient time to her narrative, which, it must be acknowledged, was somewhat circuitous.
This occurred in 2012. I came across an article in the New York Times by Robert Leleux, which prompted me to think of Kay. “Finding Joy in Alzheimer’s” served as an introduction to the author’s book, offering a detailed examination of “The Living End: The memoir is entitled A Memoir of Forgetting and Forgiving.
It is evident that Leleux’s experience with JoAnn (his grandmother who suffered from Alzheimer’s disease) was considerably more extensive, profound, and complex than anything Lisa and I could have developed in our relatively brief period of interaction with Kay. In his deeply affectionate essay, I could discern echoes of our experience with a woman who frequently confused me with a former neighbour, yet seemed to appreciate me all the more for evoking memories of the old neighbourhood.
I will refrain from providing a detailed analysis of the book Finding Joy in Alzheimer’s, which I believe would detract from the pleasure of reading it. I will conclude this introduction with a single quotation.
In her work, Leleux posits that
“I would argue that with our ageing population and the Alzheimer’s epidemic, it’s essential that we rethink how we think about older people and dementia in old age. Sure, there can be a lot of pain and hardship that accompanies the third act of life (and any act, for that matter). But what I learned from my grandmother’s journey through Alzheimer’s was that my grief over her condition had much to do with my failure to accept the change she was undergoing.
“Regardless of how I felt about it, JoAnn’s change was the truth. What was missing in her was not missing. And the more I understood that, the more present I could be in her final years. In that struggle to be present, to cherish every minute spent ‘walking her to the garden gate’, as we say in Texas, JoAnn was once again my role model. Like that long ago afternoon at the Houston Art Museum, she was still guiding my hand.
In a relatively brief period of time, Kay imparted a great deal of knowledge to me, most notably the importance of avoiding the erroneous assumption that any endeavor is futile. She will not even recall your presence.
For the majority of my visits, Kay was aware of my presence and expressed gratitude for each encounter.
Even if, on my next visit, she had forgotten about our previous encounters, I was confident that I had been there.
I was therefore all the richer for having the privilege of remembering for both of us.
Daniel Miller is responsible for nearly all of National Right to Life News' political writing.
With the election of Donald Trump to the U.S. presidency, Daniel Miller developed a deep obsession with U.S. politics that has never let go of the political scientist. Whether it's the election of Joe Biden, the midterm elections in Congress, the abortion rights debate in the Supreme Court or the mudslinging in the primaries - Daniel Miller is happy to stay up late for you.
Daniel was born and raised in New York. After living in China, working for a news agency and another stint at a major news network, he now lives in Arizona with his two daughters.
