Wistful week, reflective moments. While sitting outside with
Charley last night, a neighbor walked by with her little dog. She wanted to
greet him and he began barking his head off. As she pulled back on the lead,
backing off from him in fear, her doggie lurched forward fearless of the dog
outweighing him by well over 90 lbs. Thus
began our conversation and the fears we face in life.
Maria was her name. Her husband was diagnosed with dementia
5 years ago. It was not that gut wrenching to her and the family at first as
she had lived a rich full life with him and thought it would be a slow long progression
downhill. She was fully committed to taking care of him herself, as so many
are. Over the years, the dementia
progressed and went somewhere over the line into Alzheimer’s and many thought
she was nuts for taking care of him herself.
Maria had baby gates put up so he would not leave the house
in the middle of the night. Living in a gated community surrounded by concerned
neighbors helped. She slept on one side
of a barricade to keep a constant vigil on him the last two years incase he
awakened and needed her. Those years were full of late night walks when he felt
he was called to duty by the police force and needed to patrol the streets
again. When driving her car, to him
everyone looked like a potential criminal and should be arrested. She would
have to have him sit on his hands so he would not grab the steering wheel and
pull over to make an arrest like he had for some 30+ years on the police force.
The day finally came, when diapers, speech and body
functions were making it impossible to care for her beloved husband any longer
so she was forced to put him in an assisted living center. Within days, he
suffered 3 strokes, and within 2 weeks he was dead. She said, perhaps the way
he wanted it. He preferred being at home with her. So now, he is waiting in
heaven for her return, this time to greet her with his faculties all back in
check.
Bob died May 17th, 18 days ago. Here we were,
standing in the street, just beyond my driveway, talking at the sun was going
down as if it was any other day. And yet, the conversation was heavy in some
ways. I listened as she shared. When she learned I have a great deal of experience
being around folks dying of cancer, she asked me questions. We discussed these
together as it is more important she come to her own conclusions than mine.
Amazing how, in one conversation, you both can get a renewed
faith in God, yourself and human resilience from others you barely know. Bonds are formed that quickly, by a human
connection. We can change each other’s life that quickly and leave an indelible
mark on each other in life. And life is
short-lived. Life is a cycle and there
is no denying part of life is dying. And then returning home.
Today, I was in a melancholy mood. As we sat waiting for the
vet to see our dog, a man pulled out front with his car, right outside the
front door. He came around to the passenger side and gently lifted his dog, a
golden retriever mix out of the front seat gently laying her, on her front legs
on the pavement. Someone opened the door and he picked his dog back up placing
it inside and holding her.
Everyone watched and yet did not watch. The room was silent,
the dog was silent, the man was motionless, his face was expressionless yet it
was clear what was to come. The dog was in bad shape. No one said a word, not
any of the dogs, or the office staff. We all sat there praying he was called
back first, praying our dog wouldn’t ever be in that spot and yet knowing
surely they all would, one day.
He was called back, and just as gently lifted his dog up and
went into the room. You could have heard a pin drop. When he left, the door
slowly opened. I caught a glimpse of his beloved pet lying on the soft blanket
the vet had laying on a cushion to help make the floor softer. How thoughtful
for the last bed the doggie would lay on. I couldn’t bear to give the doggie
but a glance because I wanted to think in my mind of that gorgeous dog,
jumping, barking, licking kids’ faces and such, as dogs are meant to do.
The man’s eyes caught mine, just for a split second, and
then we both looked away from each other. He had been crying. He quickly wiped
away a tear. And walked out of there ever so quickly, back to his car and then
just sat there. I know a piece of his heart was breaking just as Maria was at
the loss of her husband.
The cycle of life is hard to comprehend at times but teaches
all of us about the mysteries of faith. Why it is important to savor the times
we have with loved ones and not take them for granted. He started up his car
and pulled away. He will start a new chapter.
Maria said to me she is redoing parts of her house as she must rebuild
her life, alone. We are given another day to live. Until we aren’t, embrace
your life and those you love, fully and completely.
