God love you, Eliza! My dear late father had Alzheimer’s in the few years before he died. My mom took care of him like a mother would take care of a child. But he had moments of great lucidity. The night before he died he had a lucid few hours. He and my mom talked of what she should do when he was gone, and where all the important papers were, etc, and also how deeply they had loved one another since that day in 1949 when they met in that boarding house in Washington, D;C… She considers that night one of the greatest gifts that God ever bestowed upon her.
The next night he died in her arms.
Paul
Wow. That is precious. Delightful. Thank you for sharing that.
Oh, my, this is bringing memories of my Dad. Here it goes:
My parents were so joined we did not know how bad Mom’s memory was. Dad’s Parkinsons was so physically progressively dibilitating (though Dad never complained or got depressed, ever), we did not realize that while she cared for his physical needs, Dad did all the thinking for both of them to keep things running. (As Mom is bossy, and Dad quiet, it looked as if she was running things. She wasn’t). His mind never diminshed. At the end, barely getting his words out, and with so much effort, lungs full of pneumonia and his heart racing, he was able to list for the hospital doctor all the huge list of meds he was on, the mg. dose and how often he took them.
Also laboriously getting his words out, he asked the nurses, after it being explained he was now done with food and would have to be tube fed from now on, if he could still kiss his wife, which made them all smile. They were so devoted to each other, so intertwined.
My Dad, of “scientific mind”, of parents who rejected faith, went to church with Mom but you could never get him to verbally acknowledge God. I tried. He
tolerated my trying but wouldn’t engage. At the end, though, he particuarly didn’t want to talk about it (when I particularly did) since he was determined to the very end to stay alive, so did not want to think of dying, even as he was dying.
However, at the very end, on that awful lung machine, I was able to tell him two things that made him smile - I think gratefully. I told him that Jesus would be greeting him so happily, and that He was so happy with him, because He is the author of marriage, and Dad had been such a good husband to Mom, and had loved her so well.
The other was that he could do more good for us and for Mom in heaven than he could do here on earth. I felt that he believed that.
Also, in that awful state, he told me three times (in a row, like Jesus to Peter, when I first said “yes, of course”, he went to the trouble of repeating it, and then again!) to take care of my mother! So, I do not feel like a hero - how could I possibly not honor that?
The death scene is too hard to tell.
But I want to share another thing. My oldest brother had a dream that night or the next. He dreamed my Dad was walking off on a country road, with a dog. He said it was the realest dream he ever had, and that Dad turned briefly and smiled at him, and kept walking off to the distance.
That dream was a blessed gift, and tells me (which I would have believed anyway) that Dad made it to Purgatory. I can see Our Lord blessing him like that, having his mobility so imparied, for so long, and Dad always liked walks and the beauty of the country - to think of him mobile again, breathing fresh country air instead of that awful hospital air, and with a dog companion (he had dogs in childhood, and my youngest brother had one). It seems just like Our Lord to bless him that way after all that suffering, so he could have peace, and freedom, to think - as I think purgatory is a lot about thinking.
Oh, my goodness - Mom just read me the date from the newspaper (she does that all the time!). Its my Dad’s mother’s birthday, my Grams, my favorite lady, whom I pray for at every Mass. I wish I’d gotten to Mass today!
I should also say that with Grams, I had to see her end in the nursing home, when she wanted to live with me, but it couldn’t have worked with my difficult marriage, and with a new baby. Seeing Grams and Dad institutionalized, I couldn’t do it again. And I want to say this, for anyone who ever has to decide on caretaking, if you have a choice - this inconvenience (living with Mom) is easier than visiting the institutions. (So far, by God’s grace, I have not yet found it too difficult yet).
Thanks for letting me hijack my own thread!
I am without my son for 3 weeks -longest ever - and its been a big reflection time for me.
For everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven…
)