Saying goodbye slowly

Lutheran, The, Jul 2003 by Herzog, Shari

Alzheimer's brings pain, grace

Marie moved in with her daughter shortly after her diagnosis of Alzheimer's disease. Sharon soon saw changes in her mother's speech and actions. Then things began disappearing. Manic episodes of folding and refolding clothes and emptying closets exhausted Marie, yet sleep eluded her. She left kitchen burners or water faucets on, and Sharon was exhausted. Tempers flared, tears flowed and life was miserable.

I was part of a group of parish visitors, and I encouraged Sharon to take her mother to a facility in town that provides respite care for people with dementia. Marie warmed to her daily visit at the center. Soon her disease worsened and she no longer spoke. Her walk became a shuffle, and her eyes seemed focused on something far away. She stood stiffly when the staff hugged her goodbye at the end of each day.

During my visits I saw Marie's lack of response to stimulus around her. Mute and expressionless, she was totally unaware of her surroundings. But the staff continued treating her as if she were alert and communicative.

One day Sharon told the staff that she had arranged for Marie to be admitted to a nursing facility. Sharon asked them not to tell Marie that she wouldn't be returning to the center the next morning. Saddened, the staff members continued their cheerful attitude throughout the day. When Sharon came to take Marie to her new home, I stood back to observe their departure.

Each staff member hugged Marie tightly, as they had done each night before. She stood stiffly as each person gave her a squeeze. As Sharon took her hand to lead her to the door, Marie turned to those of us standing there and said clearly, "Thank you for ... love ...."

We were amazed that this woman, who hadn't spoken a word for months, could articulate the very thing that had been showered over her in this place. My heart swelled as I observed the reality of love poured out upon one so unreceptive. Part of Marie was still really there!

The next day I went with a lighter heart to visit my mother, Millie, whom I'm also losing to the insidious disease we call Alzheimer's. It's a sad road for family and friends to travel. It's painful to watch someone disappear slowly into dementia. But to observe the wonderful caregivers and volunteers who give their time and love in service to those in our rest homes and care facilities truly calls us to reach a deeper place inside where we, too, can give of ourselves to others. What a wonderful way to reflect God's love. What a thrill it is to see God's reflection.

Herzog is a member of Trinity Evangelical Lutheran Church, Santa Barbara, Calif.