Your Name Is Hughes Hannibal Shanks is a caregiver’s guide written by his wife, Lela Knox Shanks. It’s the caregiving book I’m currently reading. Lela describes Hughes descent into dementia in heartbreaking detail. She defied medical advice to have him put into a home and kept him safe until his death. Although written with a specific bent toward Alzheimer’s disease, she outlines coping techniques and hard-earned lessons that could be used with any dementia patient. She realizes that remembering the identity and humanity of the patient is utmost in caring for them.
As I’ve been reading this book, I have drawn many parallels to Mom’s care. Many of the obstacles Lela faced and discussed, we are currently facing. It also made me realize that for many of you who don’t know Mom personally, you may not really know her.
Mom was born in Fayetteville, North Carolina, to Annie and R. Alexander (Sandy) Pate. She was the fifth of six children. Her daddy was a farmer. She married Dwight Bunn. They had four children. These are details that identify her and locate her in this world. Although they influenced who she became, they don’t give her true identity.
As a church musician, I play many weddings and funerals. I was at a funeral recently where all the minute details of the mother’s life were listed: birth, marriages, children, and so on. I waited for a family member or friend to share an antidote – something personal about who the person really was. The pastor preached a fiery sermon and that was that. I didn’t have any personal connection to the family – I was just the “hired hands” for this one – and I left not knowing one thing about her save the basic things I could learn on a genealogy search.
Of course, this situation also compelled me to think about Mom. Who is she? What makes her life distinct from all the other people on this planet?
Mom, first and foremost, is a Christian in the very best sense of the word. Her relationship to God is not one of mere words or intellect. She knows her Savior and has been His hands and feet to the world around her. She’s a Bible scholar. She taught Sunday school for years but was more than a teacher. She was a friend, a confidant, and a mentor.
Mom is a wife. She married Dwight Bunn on June 4th, 1951, and has stayed devoted and faithful to him for nearly 66 years. She is his best friend, his advisor, and the love of his life. They kiss at every goodbye and every hello. They hold hands and sit side by side. They still use pet nicknames for each other.
Mom is a mother. She stayed at home and took care of all four of us. Although she was involved in a few community organizations, her primary concern was her family. She fed us both physically and spiritually. She nurtured four children safely into adulthood and has continued to be connected to us. I don’t know if there ever was another mother who loves her children as she does.
Mom made our home. She made our meals. She was CEO, chauffer, counselor, housekeeper, party-thrower, errand runner, teacher, cheerleader, bodyguard, story-teller and Belk’s bargain shopper extraordinaire. She loved being a mother and she was really, really good at it. I’m sure that doesn’t list it all, but we’re coming a bit closer to her identity.
Mom is a friend. In her home, there are boxes and boxes of letters exchanged with friends from all over the world. She kept in touch even when the military moved her away from her network of friends. She nurtured relationships at each assignment and kept them her whole life long. Mom can meet someone and develop a friendship with a smile and kind words within minutes.
Mom is a sister. There are only two of the original family left now; Aunt Daught and Mom. Although Daught lives in eastern North Carolina and they don’t see each other often, there is a recognition in their souls when they do together.
Mom’s a musician. She sings and whistles. She made sure her four children became musicians, too. She taxied us to lessons, financed them, and made certain we all did the practice time it took to become proficient. All four of us still play and two of us make our living as musicians.
How can one use words to explain another human? If I had time to write a book, I still couldn’t say enough about Mom. I can describe her physical attributes, but that still won’t identify her. I could show you pictures, but that would only give you clues to her outside appearance.
To correctly identify people, you really need to know them. I have had the privilege of knowing a lot about this woman. Her personality still comes through now and then. I try to grab those moments and hold them especially close. Mom is a treasure, a woman of high integrity, whose existence in this world brought about my existence.
This is the toughest Mondays with Mom that I’ve written. Although Mom is still coherent and alert occasionally, for the most part her personality is hidden behind this disease. I miss her.
