Loving and Living Alzheimer’s

He has been gone 56 days. Such a short period of time.  Feels like an eternity some days. Being his widow brings a morphed form of guilt.   Guilt because I'm living my best life... without him.  It feels like yet another betrayal.  The depths of the unfairness are almost staggering at times. But others... I'm Free. I'm doing what I want, when I want with who I want.  Not answering to anyone.  I'm changing the house, my car, myself.  I've begun a new career.  I'm a girl again.  Not his caretaker or his mother.  Simply a girl.  I've got trips planned.  Trips that he would have loved.  Trips he'll never get to take.  I've used the term "Bittersweet" on more than one occasion and each time it hits just a little bit differently. This is what he wanted.  What we talked about.  We knew I would have to build a new life after he departed.   And I am doing it!  I'm all in!  I'm the happiest I've been in...

No matter what a person goes through or how old they get, it never ceases to amaze me how many still live their lives in a high school drama holding pattern. I suppose, for some, it is easier to play the victim rather than owning their shortcomings. I've spent the last 5 years caring for my husband.  Living the beauty and tragedy of it all.  Trying to give him the best final years of his life. The last 12 months I had gone so far as to announce publicly that those who wanted to see Randy were welcome....on more than one occasion.  Our door was always open.  Even apologizing for my social withdrawal if it had made anyone feel unwelcome.   Only to learn (once again) that some people, you will never please. To learn that a few life long friends were hurt and even offended to not be given an invitation to the PRIVATE burial. (A privilege granted to those who made his last days better.) The same friends who couldn't be bothered to come and surround Randy with the lov...

 28 days.... He has been gone 28 days and I don't know how I feel.  Don't know how I  should be feeling. Widowed... Can't begin to wrap my brain around what this means, What this is,  What this says about me. I've been grieving for well over 3 years.  Grieving as the love I married drifted away and was replaced by a love requiring maternal protection. I have moments.  Moments where his absence brings me sadness.  Where his empty side of the bed provokes anger.  Where I plan for a future he never gets to see and the weight of how wrong that is almost swallows me. And I feel guilt.   Because I am eager to begin my future.  Because I am excited about what I see in front of me. Guilt because I get to pursue a happy life while he had to lose his. It is in these moments I have to remind myself how lucky  Randy and I were to have been afforded the opportunity to discuss what was coming, what he wished for... and how desperately he wanted m...

4AM on the eve of the day we will put Randy to rest next to his Mother. I am still in shock that we are here. That he is gone from our lives.   From this world. It is so wrong. In the span of 6 days, we went from believing we had 12 months, to a couple of weeks, to a few hours. Did we say goodbye enough?  Did he feel the love that surrounded him as he left this world? I pray his Mother's face was the first beautiful sight he saw as he entered those pearly gates. While these things plague my mind, I am grateful that his passing was peaceful. Randy never felt pain or physical illness.  He was happy and playful in the days leading up to his final journey home. He was spared what would have been the most excruciating part of this disease, only spending 6 days of his beautiful life in a hospital bed. He was a truly amazing man.  Kind and loving.  No one who ever met him didn't fall in love with his zest for life and that exuberant smile. I am better for knowing and l...

Randy left this earth peacefully yesterday, March 29th, 2023 surrounded by love. I'm plagued with anger that the life of someone so wonderful ended so tragically.  And for nothing. He deserved so much more than this life afforded him. 5 years of tears, sorrow, joy and memories on his Alzheimer's journey.  5 years of being solely responsible for this person.  5 years of truly believing that no one else was capable of taking care of this man in the manner he deserved. Allowing his body to be removed from his home.. from my care... was one of the most difficult surrenders I have ever endured. Letting go is hard. But it can also be the most beautiful thing. I was blessed to have been able to fulfill his wish to remain home.   Blessed to have been cheek to cheek with this man when his last breath left his body.  To feel the very last beat of his heart on my fingertips. Blessed to have spent the last 19 years of his beautiful life with him. Honored to know that we wil...

Hospital bed arrived Friday.  I cried. Discontinued all current meds and transitioned to comfort care meds only.  I cried. He refused food and water all day Saturday.  Minimal ingestion yesterday and today. He has to be moved every 2 hours, around the clock, going forward, to avoid bedsores. How are we here already?  He ate a full meal, on his own, just 4 days ago. I'm torn between hoping that this is truly how easily his suffering will end.  In disbelief that he will not have to endure all of the pain and trials that most patients face. Yet grieving that his life is coming to and end.  That, after all he has overcome in his life, he is being robbed of all the things he planned for his future.  The unfairness of it all. April 24th will be 5 years exactly, that we have traveled this road.  I have reflected on all the tough moments.  The ones that made me doubt my ability to see this through.  To keep my promise. I've come to realize that ...

Yesterday he woke happy and playful.  Giggling and dancing.  Truly in a beautifully blissful place. The morning and afternoon were effortless.  While not the Randy we all know, a version I was blessed to witness. Evening was an entirely different story.   My heart is so heavy with the transition of things.  Unfair and brutal.  Cruelty to a degree I've never seen.  Surprising because I think I've endured the worst .  Grief because I know I have not yet felt the depth of despair that is coming. Bitterness is all I feel when I watch him suffer, unable to ease his pain. He truly feared me today.  Not in the usual sense.  Not as if I was his tormentor.  More that he was not sure I provided safety and security. He was afraid of our home.  Afraid to enter his bedroom.  Afraid of the "people" his broken mind was seeing in his haven. His eyes were dark and daunting.  Roaming the hallway and kitchen.. stopping to stare into doo...