A popular lyric. A friend’s example. The challenge I’m facing today
A friend spoke to me about a family stress point that showed little promise of resolution. “I’ve decided just to let it go,” she said.
Her words gave me pause. “That’s a phrase to help in so many situations,” I replied. And, of course, I thought about mine.
Entertaining nostalgia
I had just entertained a bout of nostalgia. It was the Fourth of July, and I was alone. With my daughter and her family, but without Evelyn. She was being well cared for at the memory care community where she’s living now. We were separated by several hours. I thought about her and wondered how she was doing while I was away, but I knew she was OK. It’s not like we’ve had many family traditions surrounding this holiday; every year was something different. But the one constant was that we were together.
Now that Evelyn has moved, will I feel this way every holiday this year? Our first Fourth. Our first Labor Day. Her first birthday. Our first Thanksgiving and Christmas. What will I do with the memories of holidays past? Will I be able to enjoy them without being sad? I know longing for what was won’t serve me well. “Let it go.”
Losing time
I’m sure Evelyn didn’t miss me. She seems to have little concept of time and doesn’t keep track of when I’m there and when I’m away. I’m not certain she sees me as different from any other visitor. It’s hard to tell.
Just a few days ago I looked through a family photo album with her, and she correctly identified the people in the pictures again and again. About two-thirds of the way through, I asked her to tell me the name of the next person I was pointing to, and she looked at me as if to chide me for my constant questioning. Of course I know who that is, her expression said, although she spoke no words. I chuckled and put the album away for another day.
I tried this again Tuesday this week, and she didn’t name one person.
Everyone speaks about the tragedy of this disease, but the sadness is with family and caregivers more than the sufferer. I’m pretty sure Evelyn didn’t wrestle with any nostalgia this weekend. The assault on her memory has achieved for her what I’m still working to experience: “Let it go.”
Celebrating together
My daughter and her husband went all out to make sure I had a happy weekend. We went to the Fourth of July festival at the World’s Fair Park in downtown Knoxville, ate from food trucks, and enjoyed a free concert by the Knoxville Symphony Orchestra. We found the perfect fireworks-viewing area in a parking lot close to my daughter’s new office on the campus of the University of Tennessee.
Friday evening we enjoyed an all-family cookout. Saturday morning brought a visit to the farmer’s market that stretches for blocks through Market Square on summer Saturdays. A short distance away we enjoyed a stroll through UT Gardens.
A drive to the nearby Smoky Mountain National Park that afternoon gave relief from the baking heat and a chance to bask in the park’s green grandeur. We navigated the crowds at Clingman’s Dome, the highest peak in the Smokies and the third highest east of the Mississippi. I was proud of myself for walking the steep half-mile path to the observation tower at the top.
Posing with my daughter at Clingman’s Dome. Garden beauty. Knoxville symphony. Cookout dessert.
Sunday morning we enjoyed one of the most stimulating and challenging worship times I’ve experienced in quite a while. And then a marvelous brunch, the last in a string of good meals we’d enjoyed together.
Staying connected
I kept my phone with me all weekend, but there were no calls, no problems, no emergencies. My private-pay aides sent me little updates and pictures from their time with Evelyn each afternoon and evening. She was content and satisfied. And for long stretches of my time away, I thought more about the adventures at hand than the situation I’d left behind.
I don’t want to forget the past; I just don’t want to be bound by it. There’s so much so beautiful to remember. But there’s so much so good yet to enjoy or achieve.
It was good to get away and to enjoy a break from the routine. The experience reminded me that the possibilities for the future dare not be hidden by grief about the past. I’m learning. I’m working to follow my friend’s example. “Let it go.”
Illustration by Grandfailure at istockphoto.com