Kathy and Miss Toula |
Another month has passed where we were able to enjoy the company of my mom-in-law, Toula. When this started several years ago, we'd get a little opposition from our soon-to-be 30-day guest. She'd want to go home to her house in Elkhart where she has lived for over 50 years.
It would usually take a few days of visitors at the bakery to get her more agreeable with her temporary residence. So many in Peru either stop in to visit her or make her feel so welcome when they see us running errands around town.
Though she remembers very little now, she seems to know that Peru offers her more love and personal experiences than her other stays. Every morning as Kat gets ready for school, Toula finishes her breakfast and immediately asks if she can be driven to the bakery.
Each day, going to the car after work is a new experience for her because she doesn't recognize the car. She's no longer certain which door to enter and struggles to figure out her seat belt. There is no recollection of her teaching career, her husband's bakery, or the adventures of her children growing up.
As we drive through the streets of our town we hear beeps from cars as hands trust out their windows to wave. I tell her those greetings are intended for her as our very short conversations will turn to how friendly the people are here.
On our drive home she'll remark several times in Greek how beautiful the sun is, how the trees are swaying in the wind, and how clean the streets are. I, of course, don't speak Greek. Heck, I've barely mastered English. But having heard the same phrases so many times, I just nod and agree with her.
You know, sometimes the simplicity of the way her mind now functions can be enlightening. The sun is beautiful. It is neat to see the trees swaying. Our streets are very clean...and when those things are repeatedly said out loud, my awareness is heightened and I find myself appreciating these things just a bit more.
The time will soon come when she won't say these things. She will no longer know the bakery, she won't know the sun is beautiful, she won't notice the swaying trees, and she won't comment about the amazing job our street department does. She won't remember her home, our puppy, Max, or her flour-covered son-in-law.
She'll merely go through the motions of being alive...but will no longer be Miss Toula.
I cry inside each time her son, Mike, comes to pick her up. Yes, I will miss the smiles she shares every day and all of the positivity she displays during such a bleak time...but that isn't what makes me sad. What makes me sad is not knowing how much more Alzheimer's will take from her the next time I see her.
I miss her more each time she is here...
It would usually take a few days of visitors at the bakery to get her more agreeable with her temporary residence. So many in Peru either stop in to visit her or make her feel so welcome when they see us running errands around town.
Though she remembers very little now, she seems to know that Peru offers her more love and personal experiences than her other stays. Every morning as Kat gets ready for school, Toula finishes her breakfast and immediately asks if she can be driven to the bakery.
She must know this more in her beautiful heart than in her mind...a mind that has been ravished by Alzheimer's. What was once a morning visit filled with repeated, but interesting stories from her past, has been replaced by silence and naps in her chair. She can no longer contribute to a conversation or share a personal experience. There is no more reasoning and her life is now moment to moment. Just a two-minute disappearance to my office will instill fear, though the bakery manager Brittany, is right there with her.
Each day, going to the car after work is a new experience for her because she doesn't recognize the car. She's no longer certain which door to enter and struggles to figure out her seat belt. There is no recollection of her teaching career, her husband's bakery, or the adventures of her children growing up.
As we drive through the streets of our town we hear beeps from cars as hands trust out their windows to wave. I tell her those greetings are intended for her as our very short conversations will turn to how friendly the people are here.
On our drive home she'll remark several times in Greek how beautiful the sun is, how the trees are swaying in the wind, and how clean the streets are. I, of course, don't speak Greek. Heck, I've barely mastered English. But having heard the same phrases so many times, I just nod and agree with her.
You know, sometimes the simplicity of the way her mind now functions can be enlightening. The sun is beautiful. It is neat to see the trees swaying. Our streets are very clean...and when those things are repeatedly said out loud, my awareness is heightened and I find myself appreciating these things just a bit more.
The time will soon come when she won't say these things. She will no longer know the bakery, she won't know the sun is beautiful, she won't notice the swaying trees, and she won't comment about the amazing job our street department does. She won't remember her home, our puppy, Max, or her flour-covered son-in-law.
She'll merely go through the motions of being alive...but will no longer be Miss Toula.
I cry inside each time her son, Mike, comes to pick her up. Yes, I will miss the smiles she shares every day and all of the positivity she displays during such a bleak time...but that isn't what makes me sad. What makes me sad is not knowing how much more Alzheimer's will take from her the next time I see her.
I miss her more each time she is here...
~*~
I love when Joe DeRozier visits the Window, don't you? If you haven't read his books yet, stop by the back door of the bakery or across the street at Anita's Boutique and pick them up. He'll sign them, too, plus share some good conversation and possibly a donut. You can also order them from Amazon.
I love this Joe - having had similar experiences with both my grandmother and mother-in-law, I get it. So sorry you, your wife, and Toula are victims of this terrible disease. One of my biggest fears is that it happens to me one day, and I will bring this heartache to my children and grandchildren. Bless you all.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this, Joe. Especially the beautiful picture of Kathy and Miss Toula.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful, Joe. My MIL had Alzheimer's, too. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing,Joe! It's great that Miss Toula can still feel the love being extended to her by you,your family and even the people of our town. So far,my family has been spared from experiencing this dreaded disease,but I've lost 5 or 6 close friends to this disease just in the past 4 years. God bless those afflicted with Alzheimer's and their friends and family as they walk this dark path.
ReplyDeleteVery tender and well observed. This is such a terrible disease. Cindy Billingsley's mother also was affected by it. Her coping mechanism as she became her mother's sole care taker was her art. She depicted the phases of the illness in her paintings and in sculpting. it eventually became part of an Altzheimer's exhibit. Thank You for sharing this.
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