Showing posts with label Tears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tears. Show all posts

Sunday, December 20, 2020

He Just Made Me Cry

Today, my order of cookies arrived in the mail. A friend from my opera supernumerary days is currently on Broadway in the role of Mary Sunshine and to help pay the bills while Broadway is dark, he has begun a home business baking sweets. I decided to share some of the goodies with my upstairs neighbor.

The neighbor husband is living with Dementia. It has been about 10 years since his diagnosis and most of his language is gone. He is the sweetest 75-year-old man I know, although at times he is rough with his wife. The neighbor wife is as close to a saint as one can get taking good care of him in their smallish apartment of one bedroom and one bath.  

She, with her daughter, run a gift shop in Evanston, and a while back during a shopping visit, I mentioned that she looked familiar. She returned that I too look familiar and after a few trial and error guesses, we discovered that we both lived in the same condo.

A little more conversation led to my sharing that my husband had lived with Dementia for 12 years and had passed away a while back. She shared at that time that her husband also was living with Dementia. Need I say we bonded. I also felt the need to be there to support her if I could.

Several times we went out to coffee and it turns out that many of my stories, prompted by her comments, were able to give her the support she needed as well as suggest possible solutions to some of the caregiving problems she was having with her husband.

I started sharing baked goods with them as I love to bake but did not want to eat all the cookies, cakes, pies, etc by myself. So I was happy to share with them and they appreciated my efforts. Every now and then she would thank me by leaving a bag of something sweet in front of my door and once called ahead to let me know they were bringing me dinner from a local carryout.

Over time we have become friends and I have also befriended her daughter on my visits to the shop which the daughter now totally runs since my neighbor cannot leave her husband alone anymore. 

Now and then they both neighbors show up at my door to pick up something I baked or when they are bringing me something in return. Mike and I always shake hands (then I sanitize) and we all wear masks as we do our neighborly exchanges and depending on who is delivering to whom one stays just inside the door while one or the other stays in the hall.

Today I dropped off some cookies for them. The wife and I talked for a while. When I arrived I called my "Hello" to the husband who was sitting on the sofa watching the TV. When I was about to leave, I called out my "Goodbye" and he got up to come to the door. He offered his hand and we shook (I sanitized when I got back to my unit.) She showed him the cookies I brought and he took the box and looked at them and handled a few. 

Then he looked at me and said, "I love you." Seemingly out of nowhere from a man who has trouble with language. I thanked him and he again offered, "Come back to us!"

I replied with, "I will." 

I left with tears running down my face at such a show of caring and love on his part and for the joy that apparently I bring with our visits!

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Responsibility

This BLOG is sometimes an essay, sometimes a creative non-fiction piece, sometimes a poem, sometimes an announcement, but also at times ...  a diary.

Haven't written for a while and always feel responsible to post SOMETHING if only to avoid an absence for those of you who faithfully follow it.

As you can imagine, life is CALM when compared to what it was between 2003 when we received Gregory's diagnosis (usually referred to as "our diagnosis") of Dementia, probably Alzheimer's and 2015 when Gregory died on October 4th.

My grief is CALMER and only rears its overwhelming presence periodically, when least expected, like it did this past Valentine's Day. Of all the holidays we celebrate, Valentine's Day is the one to celebrate with the person you most intimately love and call your sweetheart, which is probably why it is a little more difficult to face alone than birthdays, anniversaries, Christmas, etc.

I bought Gregory red roses and dark chocolate (which I ate) and had a good cry sitting on the edge of the bed opposite his shrine. Gigi, the cat Gregory called his, came over to comfort me as she usually does when I am upset and that eased the pain.

I have been working on my memoirs again, trying to edit and integrate my five years worth of blog posts (1250 of them) dealing with the middle and end of our journey into the manuscript which I wrote previously about our early years living with the disease.

You can imagine that at times, at the end of a writing session, I am raw having lived once again through difficult as well as joyful times during Gregory and my journey.

The times that make me the saddest are when Gregory was upset by the limitations and losses he was facing and there was nothing I could do to help. "I only want to go back," he once said, leaving the details to his inability to any longer use language to communicate.

After a bout of tears after a recent editing session about his sadness and my feeling so helpless, I talked myself through to comfort by understanding that there may not have been anything I could do to change the course of the losses; but I was able to do a lot anyway.

I was there for him to hold his hand, hug him and cry together, make his life a little easier by taking most of the responsibility off his shoulders, and simplify his life while at the same time creating an invigorating, fun filled, good eating, safe environment for him.

We are working already on the "Second Annual MORE THAN EVER EDUCATION FUND Luncheon" that will take place on May 3 at the Orrington Hilton in Evanston. There have been several lunch meetings with La Casa Norte as we plan and work to get sponsors, raffle prize donations, and guests to attend the function have begun in earnest.

Last year we raised over $59,000 from +150 guests at the Inaugural Luncheon, awarded 10 scholarships so far (with more anticipated by the second luncheon,) and had our first annual Holiday Cohort Luncheon so the students could have yet another opportunity to be celebrated!

You will be getting a "HOLD THE DATE" announcement here, on Facebook, and/or in an e-mail blast soon as well as an invitation in the mail (if I have your address.) I sincerely hope you can join us. 

During the event, guests will learn more about the work of La Casa Norte and hear a brief presentation from me as well as from our youth participants. There will be a guest speaker; Carmita Vaughn, Founder and President of the Surge Institute, bringing “light” to education for underserved youth. 

The First Annual Gregory Maire Leadership Award will be presented to The North Shore Exchange of Glencoe, Illinois, for their commitment to and work with La Casa Norte and the Youth in College Program. A delicious lunch will be served

Winter 2017 has been fairly easy. Learning how to understand, deal with, and take stands on the foolishness of our new president ("Not My President") has been fairly difficult. We will prevail.

So far, the documentary Alzheimer's: A Love Story has been invited to be part of over 75 film festivals around the world and earned over 35 awards, the most prestigious of which were two from the American Pavillion at the Cannes Film Festival in France and a €1,000 award from the Florence Film Festival. The documentary is now available to rent and stream on Amazon.com and Vimeo.com.

I have been invited to speak at a number of functions, with the documentary as a feature, including the North Shore University Health Care System's Symposium on Dementia, the Methodist Church of Western Springs, the University of Chicago Lab Middle School, and the Sherman Plaza Book Club and Social Committee.

Recently I was the featured speaker for the DAI (Dementia Alliance International) Webinar which included over 50 participants, via the internet, from around the world! My comments will be available shortly on YouTube.

I am currently working on possible collection additions to Michael's Museum: A Curious Collection of Tiny Treasures, a permanent exhibit since May 2011 at Chicago Children's Museum on Navy Pier.

I traveled to visit family in TX and then on to Mexico for three weeks and am looking forward to officiating at the wedding of God Daughter Whitney who lives in Washington, D.C.

My condo and two cats continue to give me great comfort, I continue to go see opera and theater, eat out or "assemble" rather than cook like I used to when Gregory was living at home, visit with friends, and write. So all in all life is good, and I am happy that you are part of it with me!



Monday, February 13, 2017

Last Night I Cried, "Happy Valentine's Day"

Don't know why I cried last night. Maybe because tomorrow is Valentine's Day and even though I still chat with Gregory, my Valentine only exists in my heart and in my head. I miss him so!

Maybe the emotions are raw because every morning I have been working on my memoirs and editing past blog posts. I am currently up to March 1, 2012! My experience with this editing alternates between seeing how WELL Gregory dealt with his changes, seeing how GOOD I was at supporting him, feeling BAD about when he was sad or frustrated, and feeling SAD about when I was not as good to him as I could have been!

Last night, the tears crept up slowly as I looked at Gregory's photograph which sits on the shelf next to a photo of his childhood favorite person, Grandma Carrie, and next to that, her sewing box which contains Gregory's remains.

I say goodnight to the photo every night and some sixteen months later, the photograph most often brings fond memories and joy; and peace in the knowing that he is no longer struggling with Dementia/ Alzheimer's.

Sometimes the photograph brings back the experience of our final goodbyes as I sat with his dead body ... but usually even with this image, the fond memories and joy and peace remain.

I flash on arriving at Lieberman at 12:30 PM or so on Sunday, October 4, 2015. Gregory had just died maybe 30 minutes earlier as I sat with him in his room. He was still hugging Peaceful the Bear, who was lying on his chest.

I kissed his Gregory's lips, still warm, and held his hand as I cried. I put my nose near his mouth and inhaled deeply so I could carry part of his last breath with me and in doing so allow his spirit to fill the hole which Dementia/ Alzheimer's had torn in my chest, allowing me to begin the healing process.

I cried tears of sorrow but also of joy. I was truly happy that he had died and that he had died peacefully. I felt a great loss but also a great freedom. We both could now move on with our lives ... his on the other side and mine on this side.

For some reason, last night my memories brought a flood of tears and sorrow; a renewed awareness that Gregory is dead and that I will live out my final days missing him and wondering: "What is death?" and more importantly ... "What is life?"

Gigi, Gregory's cat came to comfort me, as she always does when I am upset. She pushed me with her head, climbed my shoulder and rolled onto my chest. She sniffed my eyebrows and my eyes. She pushed me again.

She knows my sorrow, and I think she misses Gregory as well. Not long after Gigi's and my interaction; the tears subsided. I went to the bathroom and washed my face with a hot cloth. I felt better, no longer had the need to cry uncontrollably, but still felt sad and heavy.

I easily fell asleep and dreamed about Gregory. He is often in my dreams but usually does not take an upfront, active part. He is just there loving me and being part of my life. I awoke remembering the dream and felt his love. I know he feels mine.

Happy Valentine's Day to the person who taught me the meaning of unqualified love. I am forever grateful!




Saturday, September 3, 2016

Tears Today

The GRIEF with which I am dealing over Gregory's death seems to be at a very manageable level. Every now and then it flairs, as I am sure it will do forever, but especially since his leaving is still so new and as we approach the October 4th, first year anniversary.

Browsing Facebook, I came across this. Click PLAY and read on:



TEARS

• • •

Sitting on the balcony
Sun beating down on my face.
An image of Gregory
Taking off his shirt
To bask in the warmth.

TEARS

• • •

Making the bed this morning
Tightening the sheets
Pulling up the blanket
Arranging the pillows
His side of the bed missing.

TEARS

• • •

At the Saturday Farmer's Market
Fresh from the farm produce,
And flowers, and meats, and cheese,
And baked goods, and food trucks.

Gregory standing in the middle of the lane
Surrounded by the gayly shopping crowd
One hand on our cart filled with goodies
Taking it all in like a little boy at the circus.

TEARS

• • •

Holiday coming up in a few days, another Labor Day
What shall I plan to make it a special for both of us?
BBQ. Steak. Corn. Slaw. Home cooked Cherry Pie
All present and accounted for, but without Gregory this year.

TEARS

• • •

The realization of the reality that he is dead
HURTS.
Knowing that I will never again hold him.
HURTS
Having to live the rest of my life without him
HURTS

TEARS

• • •

Today, headed north on Gross Point Road, past The Lieberman Center
And Skokie Hospital, as an ambulance  with siren screaming passes.

Memories  of a 7:30 AM call from Lieberman that Gregory has fallen
And split open his head, also a huge ugly bloody lump on his forehead

Grateful that with Lieberman's help all I had to do was comfort him.
Sad that with the Alzheimer's, that was all I could do to help him.

TEARS

Sunday, March 6, 2016

The Seven Faces of Grief



Grief is a very real thing. I only say this because experiencing it through Gregory's death, has allowed me the time to notice and think about it. It is real. It is a process. It unfolds and realizes itself in its own way, not really under the control of the person grieving. It never resolves although it does become easier.

It not only has emotional but also very real physical and bodily function effects. Not only does Grief make you feel sad but it also affects your energy, your appetite (in how you enjoy or digest your meals,)  your gut (in nervous stomach and toileting,) and whether or how well you sleep.

Grief seems to have a mind of its own in when and how it visits. A blooming flower, a song on the radio, an item in the grocery store can all be triggers to grief expressing itself. Sometimes Grief visits you at the level of a "suggestion or hint," sometimes in a wave that quickly disappears, sometimes in a torrent that seems like it will never end its flooding.

Lately I have learned to sit with Grief and accept the lessons it can teach me. It is painful to closely look at or accept Grief but pushing it away only makes it worse. So I allow myself times to grieve, but not for long periods of time!

At other times I thank Grief on its arrival but tell it that I do not want a visit right now. Usually, Grief will respect the timing and my request and will leave me alone for the time being. I remember to invite it back at a later date and welcome it then. Trying to forget or suppressing Grief only makes it worse when it finally does break through your defenses.

As I began sitting with and taking a closer look at Grief when it visited, I noticed that there seems to be at least seven types of Grief that one encounters: 1) Grief with the permanence of loss, 2) Grief in missing the past, 3) Grief on not being able to remember the past, 4) Grief over missed opportunities, 5) Grief and fear for self in the present, 6) Grief and fear for self in the future, and finally 7) Grief with the Mystery of Death itself.

1️⃣ PERMANENCE OF LOSS: Missing Gregory is big. We will never again hold each other, or kiss, or enjoy an experience together. I will only hear his laughter in my memory. I will only appreciate his creativity and talents in photos of things he accomplished and not as he executes them.

He is no longer an interactive, physical part of my life. I miss holding his hand. I miss our talks and our love making. I miss hearing him play his grand piano. I miss having someone to lean on when sad and with whom to make decisions. I cry over the "never agains!"

2️⃣ PAST MEMORIES: Memories of times past remind me that he is gone. Often instead of fond memories making me feel better, they make me sad. They bring on tears at best and sobbing and keening at worst. I am told this gets better over time, and it seems to be doing so, but still the overwhelming grief continues to visit at unexpected times.

3️⃣ MEMORIES LOST: Time goes so quickly. It has been 41+ years since I first met Gregory and while I still have memories of much of our time together, there are so many that no longer hold office in my mind.

This is the nature of growing older and in having had a long term love relationship but now that Gregory is dead, the grief seems to allow me to spend more time realizing all the memories that no longer are clear, if they even still exist, and without the hope of inquiring to amplify them or find out the truth.

4️⃣ MISSED OPPORTUNITIES: The mind begins to wonder about things I could or should have done more of, done better, or done in the first place. I am sad about the times I neglected to tell him how much I loved him and how important he was to me or the times we argued or when I was mean to him. I feel so bad that I wasn't as good to him as I could have been as we worked through many of the Dementia/ Alzheimer's bumps, pot holes, and turns in the road.

I realize that now that I know "how it all ends," it is easier to criticize my actions of the past but in reality when you are in the throws of day to day dealing with life, let alone Dementia/ Alzheimer's, your behaviors are the best ones you can muster at the time. I also need to take the time to remember all the things I did well, the ability to apologize immediately when I acted poorly, and Gregory's compassionate loving acceptance of me no matter what.

5️⃣ PRESENT: Grief also finds its way in as I try to rediscover how to spend my days without having Gregory here to share my life (like in the earlier days before Dementia/ Alzheimer's) or having Gregory to care for and to be the center of my life (while he continued to loose language, cognitive, physical and other abilities,) and finally when he moved into the memory care facility (now with a great support team but my still spending a lot of time involved.)

At times it still is difficult to fill my days after having shopped, put groceries away, cleaned the condo, made dinner, watched a few TV shows, read for a while ... only finding it is just 7:00 and I am ready to end my day. But who wants to or is able to go to sleep so early? Also, doing all these things by oneself when used to having a partner with which to do them is lonely.

6️⃣ FUTURE: Grief arrives when I realize I am 70 years old. Feel young but none-the-less am getting older. What will it be like to grow older alone? How brave will I be to travel the world by myself? What will my life be like as I slow down? Who will take care of me when I need help? What will become of me if I can no longer make good decisions for myself. I have trusted my "next in line" trustees for my protection, I love them dearly, in fact I trust them with my life (literally!) but still Fear of the Future is real.

A lot more fear could creep in, especially seeing what Gregory went through for so long, but I try to keep optimistic, and positive; and I am able to keep the worries at bay. I remember that with Gregory's illness, so many fears that I had never materialized so I needn't have worried. I also realized that spending energy on "working at not worrying" is as bad as the worrying itself. Big waste of time and energy for both!

7️⃣ MYSTERY OF DEATH: The last, but not necessarily the least important, is the grief of wondering what Death is all about. Of course Death is all around us but when it comes so close, courtesy of one you love so dearly, the mystery magnifies. In many ways I cannot really picture myself dead, and that is part of the Mystery.

I believe there is something after and that gives me a little consolation. But where is Gregory? What is his time like now? Can he see me or hear me? What makes up  a life when it seems to end to easily? Where do all those skills, abilities, and talents go when all is said and done? What is the bigger picture of Life and Death?

Gregory and I had opposing views of the process of death. I used to think that as I was dying and my soul/spirit was leaving my body I would look back and say, "Ah, now I understand!" Gregory's view was that he would look back and say, "Ah, more questions!"

• • •

As I am writing my views about Grief, I am celebrating the fifth month anniversary, almost to the day, of Gregory's passing. I am less bereft, cry less, feel less depressed. I am better able to spend my time, better able to be alone, better able to speak to and learn from my emotions and my Grief, better able to brave the future, better able to slowly let joy back into my life.

I have worked at reinventing a physical relationship with Gregory; not bodily, but through talking to him, imagining his replies, setting up a shrine with his photograph and items he cared for, revisiting photographs of past vacations and adventures, imagine I am enjoying things for both of us when I visit the the Botanic Garden or go to the Opera.

I have created ways to make my life meaningful, to be of service to others, to give back. I have made financial contributions, supported others in need, helps establish the More Than Ever Education Fund in Gregory's and my name, continue my blog writing with many followers, promote the documentary "Alzheimer's: A Love Story," and still hope to publish my memoirs with the hope that many of Gregory's and my lessons will help others know they are not alone on the path of Dementia/ Alzheimer's. 

The hole which was torn in my chest by Gregory's Dementia/ Alzheimer's and by his death is still there. It is the sacred place where we can still be together. When he died, I felt like his soul/spirit began to that hole so we could heal together. It has been working. The pain of Grief never goes away but it does get easier.






Sunday, February 21, 2016

Happy Valentine's Day: The Witness

Valentine's Day was spent with friends at brunch. The rest of the day I wrote, worked on the upcoming More Than Ever Education Fund that was founded by Gregory and me, had dinner, watched a few TV programs, then headed to bed.

For the most part I had gotten through Valentine's Day, with my love for and memories of Gregory to carry me. In the bedroom, I sat down on Gregory's side of the bed, which is nearest to Gregory's shelf on the bookcase, and began a conversation of love, of missing him, of being able to carrying on.

Slowly immense emotions of sorrow and tears overtook me. In grief, there is no timeline, no time frame, and I begin to believe that while it does get easier, it never gets over! So I let the emotions come and I cried and I sobbed and I keened.

A moment later, Gigi, one of my two cats (who is the cat Gregory picked out when we adopted,) came over to me and "petted" me; pushing against me with her head, standing on my lap and rubbing against my chest, and finally standing on her hind legs to lean in and lick my ear.

Her gesture of love made me feel better though I continued to cry, but a little more calmly. Next, Gigi moved over to the nightstand and stepped up with her front legs to Gregory's shelf, and rubbed her head against Grandma Carries's sewing box which contains Gregory's remains. She came back to me and lie down against my leg.

Next came Emma, the cat I chose. She is not as demonstrative but makes up for that in her enthusiasm. She also jumped up on the night table, stepped up onto Gregory's shelf and said hello to him with rubbing her head against Carrie's box, actually moving it a little in her enthusiasm.

By now, I was calm and thought, "Wow. The spirits are strong around here tonight." I wished Gregory a Happy Valentine's Day, told him I would eat later the candy I bought for him, and offered him a Good Night." I crawled under the down comforter, comforted by Gigi, Emma, and Gregory and switched off the lights.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Christmas

Tonight I had my Christmas cry. I didn't expect it, although it arrives every year as we are unpacking our Christmas decorations. We were having dinner, Christmas music was playing in the background, some of the decorations were in place, and up crept the tears. It is an overwhelming type of cry, a world weary sad cry as weak as a life is wonderful joyful cry. It is a cry that misses my dead parents, in-laws, friends, pets. It is a cry that mourns my youth and probably is a cry of fear of the future. I work hard at not letting it overwhelm but I acknowledge it and give it some reign. Now I can move on to enjoy our holiday, our families, our friends, each other. Merry Christmas!
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