Love In The First Degree
“After all this time you’d think it would get easier. It
doesn’t….I miss him so much”. Mom’s voice trailed off at the end of her
thought.
My dad died seven
years ago this June. She must have been
thinking of him yesterday afternoon and her grief stressed her out more than she
could handle.
Mom called several
times that day, each call sounding more confused than the last. She asked to go to Kroger for groceries. I said sure, picked her up after work. On the way to the store, looking out the window
like a young woman she talked about missing dad.
They were married 44 years when he died. She talks about him every time I see her, how
lucky she’d been to have found someone who loved her more than life itself, and
how much she loves him. She tells me the
story of how they first met. It’s a
story she repeats often… repetition being a symptom of the disease. I love hearing that story every time we get
in my car to go on an adventure. That
story keeps the two of them young and forever in my heart.
They are my role models for love, always have been. My sister calls them ‘The Gift of The Magi”
couple, thinking more about each other than themselves. She’s absolutely right about that. And knowing what they mean to each other I
cannot imagine her grief, her sense of loss. Loss on top of loss now.
At times, my heart just breaks for her. Little jagged pieces on the floor breaks for
her. To have two types of dementia and
not have her beloved husband here to see her though this….I’m married 26 years
this year and cannot image a life without my husband in it.
And yet, she shows me more about love everyday. She tells me
she’s glad to see me, especially on days when she feels overwhelmed and scared. I feel my dad close to me, close to her. She keeps a journal and writes to my dad
frequently in it. She sends me home with
food after we grocery shop for her. She
feels a little guilty that I drive on our adventures.
