and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne ?
Robert Burns
For 24 or 25 years I've spent New Year's Eve with Donna. I'm not too sure of how to mark the passing of time, and honestly it's not pertinent. We've never gone out for New Year's Eve. We've never made a big deal of it. We've never bought a bottle of champagne, made a festive meal, or sang Auld Lang Syne. And honestly I can't think of anything worse than going out in the cold for something like First Night. I sound so curmudgeonly., but mostly I just don't care about ringing out the old or ringing in the new.
Donna and Ripley have gone to bed. Neither of them are aware of the turning of the calendar to 2013. Donna doesn't seem to understand time in the same way anymore. She has a difficult time saying numbers, she often doesn't know how old she is, but she knows her birthday. She doesn't understand time in the same way anymore either...after all what's the point of knowing that something is happening in 15 minutes, 15 hours or 15 days when you can't remember what the something is anyway?
One thing that Alzheimer's has taught me is that the present is where life happens. Alzheimer's gets the reputation that someone slowly forgets their life's details, but you quickly learn it is not so simple. They forget your life's details too. As long as I meet Donna in the moment it's not so apparent that she's forgetting me more and more every day. The fact that she remembered my name a few days before Christmas was nice. Now I have a chance to say, "The last time she said my name was on that date." Or maybe next week she'll say it again, and I'll replace the date. I try not to go through days wondering if it's the last time she'll say or do something. What's the point of marking all the milestones in reverse? I'd rather they sneak up on me like when I realized she didn't know my name because she never said my name any more. It wasn't the disconnect that occurred when we went to Maine last summer when she completely forgot who I was - that was devastating - but there was something so utterly heartbreaking when I realized she didn't know my name. And still she mostly doesn't know my name so she calls me Rippy or honey. Who I am is more important than my name. Or so I tell myself.
It's not going to get any better and it's going to be a hard year this 'two oh one three'.
So, for all my friends and loved ones who still know me, and know my name, "we'll take a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne."
Dearest Kristi,
ReplyDeleteI love your willingness to connect with all of us who love and care about you both. Your ability to write(WELL)) gives me a beautiful window into the complexities you navigate and the choices you make to stay simple and sweet.
You don't have a cup of kindness...you have an ocean of kindness for the woman you have loved all these years. I have been witness to your moments of deep eye contact, patient listening, caring touching and care taking. I have long memories of single parenting and although this is not what you are doing...parenting...you are the primary caretaker for someone who needs your full and abiding care. Yes, although it is daunting and exhausting, it must be done. The kind of suffering that you are experiencing can harden you; especially your heart because who wants more pain. Sometimes the very thing that causes us to harden and our suffering to intensify can soften us and make us more decent and kinder people. This is the ocean of kindness you live in.
God is grateful for you. I am grateful for you. Love, marya
"Living in the present", isn't that what we all truly have?
ReplyDeleteI do understand how the loss of memories would be devastating, yet we can't live in the past. It's great to plan for a future, but one can't live there either.
Marya certainly expressed herself well, love the ocean of kindness.
Tipping my cup towards yours, dear Kristi.