Remembering Love

The question of how to show the ones we care for that we love them is a mystery to many—most?—caregivers.

In the last post, I offered one answer to the question: continue to show your love in familiar ways and trust that your loved one knows. heart in the darkHe or she just KNOWS. We don’t understand how, but we believe it’s true, nonetheless.

A rather unsatisfying answer, perhaps, but if you’ve been a caregiver for a while, you’re prepared to believe. You’ve seen enough to know that there are things all caregivers must take on faith, and this is one of them: maintain your familiar messages of love, and the one you care for will know.

I used to imagine my mother’s mind as a room full of shelves: some small, holding small items; some larger, holding large items. Alzheimer’s had dimmed the lights in that storage room, so when Mom went there looking for something, she couldn’t always read the tags on the boxes stacked on the shelves.

dark storehouseAs Alzheimer’s progressed, the lights grew dimmer and she had even more trouble finding what she was looking for. We were helpless to help her, unable to find what she couldn’t tell us she wanted.

I imagined she saw nothing through her eyes but one of those pictures that make no sense unless you pull your eyes out of focus and stare at just the right spot. I decided her words were jumbled like pieces of a million puzzles; she couldn’t look through all of them to come up with even two that worked together.

But although it seemed the darkness in her mind had spread now to her whole world, there were still rare times when she was clearly aware of what and or who was around her. Often that awareness turned to anger. Her eyes, no longer empty, flashed with it. Her words, no longer jumbled, could convey the anger clearly–simply, but clearly.

“No! No, you! Go away!”

And sometimes her voice was loud, but plaintive: “I want to go home.”

Which box had lit up to spark her emotion? And where did the light come from?where the lite comes from Where did the anger reside that it could return so fast and hot? Where was the notion of “home” stored? And what flash of light had illuminated the box of her desire? I witnessed it: even after all awareness seemed lost, anger could return and be expressed. The soul’s yearning for home could stir again, and words could be found to ask one more time.

home in the darkThat’s how I knew: at random times, lights can still shine in a mind dimmed by Alzheimer’s. When Mom turned her face away as I offered her medication; when, eyes soft and lips parted, she held her hand out toward a baby we saw in the store; when she pointed at a squirrel sitting on the lawn—she showed that sometimes she still recognized familiar things.

And if she could know those things, she could know that I loved her.

heart in the darkIt wasn’t a memory she could summon up whenever she wanted to, or when I hungered for it, but there were times…

  • …times when I smiled at her and asked, “How are you, Bunky?”
  • …times when I danced across the kitchen floor singing,“Ja-da, ja-da,jing jing jing!”
  • …times when I lifted her stiff legs onto her bed, covered her with a pink-flowered sheet, and, after a kiss, told her, “Nighty-night, One-That-Borneded Me!”
  • …times when the silly things of yesterdays could light up our today.

Mom’s face would relax into soft wrinkles and her glazed eyes would shine for a second. Sometimes I really hit the jackpot—she remembered how to turn her lips into a smile.

It could only be that, down in the storeroom, a huge box on the largest shelf had begun to glow. The light had to come from within. I couldn’t explain it and didn’t try. It was enough that Mom knew I loved her and was able to show me.

glowing boxKeep showing your love in the old familiar ways, and be ready to catch a flash of remembering in the one you care for. Maybe just a sparkle or a momentary shimmer, maybe a glow that comes and quickly goes—watch for it! It appears at random times, and it’s almost always fleeting, but if you catch it, you can keep it safe in your own warehouse. It will be there for you to pull out even on the darkest days. It’ll help you keep believing.

Assuredly, I say to you, if you have faith as a mustard seed…nothing will be impossible for you. (Matthew 17:20 NKJV)

Father, we thank you for the miracles you work in our loved ones. Thank you for encouraging all of us, for helping us see with certainty that You are with us, every day, bringing us Your gifts of faith, hope, and love.

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About atimeformiracles

I'm a writer. And a speaker. And an advocate for victims of Alzheimer's. I write about a lot of things, but right now Alzheimer's has taken center stage. You'll see some of my work on my blog If you're a caregiver, this blog is for you, from someone who has been in your shoes. I offer help in the form of tips and strategies gained through my personal experience. I offer encouragement in the form of witness: You are never alone. The God of all hope is always with you, and where He is, miracles abound. I speak to groups on the same subject, sharing helps and challenging caregivers to expect joy on the path through Alzheimer's. It's a rough road, but it leads through terrain of intense beauty. I can point out some of the miraculous sights along the way. In the U.S., a new diagnosis of Alzheimer's is made every 69 seconds. Please join me in praying for those suffering from the disease and for those who care for them.

1 thought on “Remembering Love

  1. Kathleen, I might have shared this with you before, but I think it needs mentioning again. One evening I called Mom’s nurse who reported that she was moaning and the nurse couldn’t make her comfortable. She said she had been moaning for over an hour and she was worried.

    I asked this dear lady if she knew any hymns and she replied, “My dad was a Baptist preacher.”

    “Please go and lean close to Mom and tell me what you hear.”

    She returned to the phone amazement smeared over every word…”She’s singing Amazing Grace!”

    Mama had forgotten almost everything, but the lights seems to brighten in all our lives when we knew Mama was singing to her precious Lord. And I remembered the days I would walk home from school and hear Mama singing from a block away…in those days our homes weren’t air-conditioned and the windows were opened…and I’m comforted by the melodious memory of her voice. Thank you.

    Wonderful blog…precious insights. May God bless you as you comfort us.


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