A voice from the past, a reflection that makes us sad—and proud
Sometimes it’s good to look back and remember what life was like before Alzheimer’s.
Sometimes it’s painful.
But an even stronger rush of feelings can come when you see a picture of your loved one’s past with details you didn’t know before. That was my experience last week.
One of my wife’s former students wrote to tell me how much Evelyn had meant to her, how she sees now, 20 years later, that Evelyn had influenced the course of her whole life.
I forwarded the note to my kids, who were grateful to read it, but my daughter said it made her cry in the parking lot at Home Depot.
And my son’s reaction summarized much of what I was feeling. “It makes me realize that even when she was teaching and at the height of her powers I didn’t see how much of a force she was,” he texted me. “She was always just Mom. Makes me sad and proud.”
Becka Morena wrote the note, attaching a copy of an article by James Michener that had appeared in Reader’s Digest. Michener’s thesis was that young adults shouldn’t fret too much about choosing the right life path and that nothing illegal or immoral they choose to do in their 20s is a waste. All of it contributes to helping them see the person they want to become. (Michener himself didn’t write his first novel till he was 40.)
It's interesting and valuable advice, but the way Evelyn sat with Becka to help her think about it made all the difference. With Becka’s permission, I’ll share most of her letter to explain what I mean:
I recently started reorganizing our closets and in the process found myself going through a few old "important papers" folders. I've carted these folders around from apartment to apartment for almost 20 years now, since moving to Los Angeles after graduating from Cincinnati Christian Universithy in 2004. Among my tax records, birth certificates, social security cards and old apartment leases, I came across the attached Reader's Digest article entitled "On Wasting Time" that Evelyn gave me when I was a student at CCU. I thought you might appreciate hearing my related memories of Evelyn.
I never took a proper class with Evelyn. Rather, I did an independent study with her when I found myself in need of an odd credit or two. She would assign me books and we would meet regularly to discuss them. Although most of the specific books we read together are lost to memory, I do particularly remember that she introduced me to the work of Elie Wiesel. I grew to treasure my meetings with Evelyn. She challenged me intellectually through insightful discussions and became a trusted mentor and confidante.
She became a trusted mentor and confidante.
I recall experiencing a fair amount of anxiety during my senior year about making the "right" life decisions after graduation. I remember talking with Evelyn about how overwhelming it felt to have literally all possibilities open to me.
I could stay in Cincinnati or move to the other side of the world, or anywhere in between. I could pursue more education, try to break into the nonprofit world, try to work in government or try to get in at an NGO.
I specifically recall telling her I felt paralyzed because taking any step toward any option felt like closing the door on all the others. I also recall sharing my anxiety about going from the girl who could do anything to the girl who didn't do anything.
I felt paralyzed.
She was so patient and kind and gave me some of the best advice I've ever received. She talked about how life is rarely linear and how I don't need to choose what I'm going to do for the rest of my life, but only what I'm going to do next. She advised me to have goals but to sort of meander my way through my 20s in order to get to know myself and to explore friendships, different cities, different ideas, etc. I remember she had a confidence I didn't that there were no wrong choices and I would find my way to a fulfilling career.
Becka and Evelyn at Cincinnati Christian University about 20 years ago.
Looking back, I'm really impressed that she managed to give this advice without being dismissive of my anxieties. She gave me the attached printout of a Reader's Digest article on the topic that really hit home for me and earned its 20-year spot in my "important papers" folder.
In the end I tried to put her advice into practice and moved to Los Angeles right after graduation. I was there for a couple of years before moving to New York City in 2007, where I've remained ever since. I spent my 20s racking up incredible life experiences in both cities, and traveling as much as possible (including an almost month-long solo trip through Italy at age 25).
Evelyn's advice was spot on. I could tell while living through it that that period of my life was special, but looking back now at age 41, I can see just how formative it was.
Her advice was spot on. I can see how formative it was.
I am so grateful for Evelyn's wise counsel and patient listening to a 21-year-old deep in existential crisis. Eventually I started law school at 28, married at 31, began my career as a corporate "biglaw" attorney at 32, and had my children at 35 and 37. I like to think I would have made the best of any other path in life I might have taken, but it's not an over exaggeration to say that everything in my life right now can be traced back to Evelyn.
I am so. grateful for Evelyn’s wise counsel and patient listening.
I read Becka’s letter alone, early Saturday morning, at the kitchen table. Just as I was finishing it, I heard Evelyn’s footsteps shuffling behind me. I greeted her with a smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice the tears on my flushed cheeks.
I asked her if she wanted to go to the bathroom, and I helped her in and out. She decided she wasn’t ready yet to get up for the day, and I gave her the choice to go back to bed or rest on the couch. She headed toward the living room. After seeing that she was settled, I pulled out her assortment of pills to have ready for her when she decided to get up again.
Then I came back to the table and wrote Becka to thank her for a picture of Evelyn I want always to remember. Her letter so far has been the best part of my week.
COMING THIS FRIDAY!
A new shared story. These memories of loving care will help you on your caregiving journey.
Find more shared stories here. Then write mark@unchosenjourney for details about sharing YOUR story!