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Sticking Together

12 Nov, 2016

Me loving him, sometimes, it isn’t enough.

When my dad doesn’t know who I am, I know he loves, and he knows I love him.

When I can’t get there to see him, does he know I love him? Does he know I think about him, wondering how his day has been?

It might be that a loving community is the next best thing to singular love.

There are 10 people living on my dad’s floor.  Every visit, I seek to spend time with three others who also live on his floor. It’s not because I have to, it’s because I know them, and I know their families.  I know what it means to their daughters, sons, nephews, and nieces that someone has visited and chatted and helped straighten their sweater on the back of a chair.

This act of visiting others is not completely altruistic-

I personally get so much out of my visits with these fabulous women.

And, it is intentional time spent to also help my peers,  who may not be able to visit this week.  I know they do the same when they visit. The community of “Bryan’s visitors”, is now four times higher than it would have been if he lived anywhere else.

Knowing who lives on my dad’s floor, and who those family members are, hasn’t been an accident.  The place my dad lives hosts all family meetings every quarter, and through these meetings, we all know and care about one another.  At the very least, we are in the same boat, and support one another through this difficult, progressive disease.

For anyone seeking a new home for someone you love, consider the impact of community:

Who else lives at the new home and on the floor you’re considering?

Do families interact with one another through the home?

How open is the home to sharing your name with other families?

How often do people visit?  Take a look at the log book (if you can).

 


Thanks to our Friend  Carolyn Duckworth with Care2Care.

A Blog designed to  Help Others

Private home care / senior living communities / senior living / home health care

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Walk With Me

Walk with Me

By Norman McNamara

Walk with me my friend, walk with me a while,
Step into my shoes, and walk a different mile,
Do you see what I see, through the foggy mist?
What can’t you see now? have you got a list?
Can you see things clearly, or cross a road ok?
Do you know what time it is, can you name the day?
Walking down the road, is not so easy now,
Do you feel your stumbling, and your head do bow?
When you meet your “friends” do they act the same?
Do they wave at you from across the street, do they call your name?
Or do they walk away, pretending your not there,
After years of friendship, do they now not care?
So walk with me my friend, walk with me a while,
Step into my shoes, and walk a different mile,
This i have to go through, each and every day,
I pray dementia`s demons, never come your way,


Elderly Care / Nursing Homes  / Elderly Care Services

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Introducing Alice

The car rolled to a stop and I grabbed my water bottle and duffel bag, clicked off my seat belt turned to mom in the Driver seat and said “Bye mom, I love you” before hopping out and starting towards the red brick building that I’d practice ballet in five days a week from the ages four to seventeen.

“Practice hard dear.” She’d say through the open window before accelerating away.

Similarly, when I got the call that I was cast as Lead in Swan Lake, I excitedly called my mom.

“Brianna, please don’t shriek in the phone.”

“Sorry Mom, Did you hear what I said? I got the part!”

“I did, Remember to practice hard, and make me proud” she’d say into the receiver.

“I will mom, I love you.”

“I need to get back to my luncheon, take care dear”  

Or, on my wedding day, before she gave me away, I turned to her and whispered “I love you”. She quietly said “You made a good decision” and winked at me.

Even, when I gave birth to my son, as she held Sammy in her arms for the first time she looked down at his little face and said “This is a huge responsibility, Brianna”

“I know mom” I said. She lightly traced his brand new nose with her index finger. “Im very proud of you” I’m not even quite sure if this was to me or to him.

It wasn’t like I didn’t know she loved me. She did of course in her own way. She was a single mom and worked hard to teach me how to strive for perfection, to never settle for anything short of excellence. She never once lost her temper at me or even fell into a fit of laughter there was always this sense of self awareness she had. I remember this one single moment we were watching a tape of my art schools rendition of the Nutcracker and as she watched me on screen she let out a single tear, quickly wiped it away and folded her hands back into her lap. I pretended not notice, and never brought it up.

At my son’s 3rd birthday party she was visiting us in Florida and her cab pulled up so I grabbed her coat and purse as Brian took her bags to the back of the taxi

“Come say goodbye to Nana” I called to Sammy, who came sprinting into her arms.

“Bye Nana, I love you!” he exclaimed, She muffled something into the crook of his neck and he skipped back to his toys beaming.

She turned to me took her coat and her bag, pulled me into an embrace and said

“I love you too.” before sliding into the back of the car. I stood there frozen as I watched the car fade away in the distance until Brian asked

“You coming back in?” with a quizzical look.

Reflecting now, I should have seen the sign that those simple words were a clear indication of my mother losing her mind.


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