My parents are the cutest. Dad snuggles in to Mom’s neck every morning and kisses her and rubs noses with her. Sometimes she fusses at him because his nose is cold. He tells her that he loves her and she replies, “I love you.”
During a marriage that’s lasted sixty-six years, they’ve had joys and sorrows just like the rest of us. They’ve reveled in the births of children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. They’ve wept with the loss of parents and siblings and two grandsons. They’ve survived cancers and now this disease that is slowly pulling Mom away from this earth.
These days when they sit in chairs side by side, she fiercely holds his hand. She doesn’t watch the ballgame with him because most of what’s happening in the room is unintelligible to her, but she holds on to him for dear life. When she feels stressed or a loss of control, she looks for him because she knows he will keep her safe. Her eyes search for him even when she doesn’t have language to call for him.
Although I’ve only been around for fifty of their years, I know they embody true love. Their marriage is the standard I use to gauge marriages. I measure my marriage against theirs. Their love and devotion to each other is incredible. I’ve always felt that they could write a book called, “Habits of a Highly Successful Marriage.” For more on their love story, read here.
Part of my responsibility as a primary caregiver is to stay on top of information, education, and research in dementia care. I was blessed many years ago with a marvelous mentor, Charlene, who taught me so much hands-on caregiving. Much of what I come across on the internet is a reminder of what she taught me in 1990. It’s a refresher for me, but I forgot that all this is new to Dad. Recently, after watching a wonderful instructional video about feeding someone in the late stages of dementia, I shared it with him. Even though we have used words to describe what the late stage may be like for Mom, the video struck a nerve with him.
That’s his sweetheart lying there. I adore this precious woman who is my mother, but she’s his wife, his partner, and his soul mate. I can’t pretend to understand what it must feel like to watch this agonizing progression day-by-day and week-by-week. Most of the time, he’s stoic. Occasionally, it overwhelms him and that’s the hardest part of all.
This week he is focused on installing a new humidifier. Since the weather is cooling down, the heater is staying on and the house humidity is dropping. He will do everything in his power to make her life as pleasant as possible using moisture and warmth to keep her snug and comfortable. He and I both like it when there is something for him to do. He has a difficult time being still so this was a perfect diversion. Every time he walks by her, he speaks to her, calling her “sweetheart” or “sugar foot,” or “honey.”
A few weeks ago, the doctor from Hospice came out to assess Mom for her yearly evaluation. He told Dad how pleased he was with Mom’s care. The doctor told Dad that love was keeping her alive. I know that’s true. The cutest love ever is in this house and I’m grateful to be a witness to it!
