| presents excerpts from |
ISBN 0-9778140-0-9
326 pages, 68 photographs.
326 pages, 68 photographs.
 |
....Caregiving provided an opportunity to act completely out
of love for another person. This love was expressed in
various ways and evolved to what I consider one of the
highest forms—the joyful giving and receiving between two
friends who are devotedly committed to each other’s
welfare and the well-being of humanity as a whole. It was a
chance to give back in kind to one who had given me so
much, perhaps more than anyone else on earth. An impor-
tant example of this demonstration of love was in saying, “I
love you.” Our family didn’t use that phrase very much. We
loved each other, most often acted in loving ways, and
seldom felt antagonism against each other. We felt a lot of
joy together and had strong emotions. However, we just
didn’t often use the phrase “I love you.” That was a general
description of our family behavior. In reality, “I love you”
is just a term—just three words. It indicates affection and
sincerity, but the degree of those qualities is best interpreted
by watching the countenance of the speaker, listening to his
or her heart.
As the AD began to increasingly develop in Mother, I
found myself starting to say “I love you.” I believe this
started naturally as a way to assure her that I was there for
her and always would be. This increased her sense of
security and being grounded while the Alzheimer’s was
destroying the pathways of logic in her brain.
When Mother went to the nursing home, I increased the
love confirmations. At least twice a day I would tell her I
loved her. Sometimes she would be shy and silent, but the
declaration would bring a smile to her face. Mostly, she
sincerely replied to me, “I love you, too.” As the disease
attacked her verbal abilities, words dropped from her reply.
Over time, “I love you, too” changed to “Love you, too”
then to “Love you” then to “Love” and finally to “Uv”
when she could speak no longer. After that, she replied
with a happy smile and finally a beatific smile.
*****
My mother loved to laugh. It was always laughing with
people but never at anyone. An exception would be
laughing at herself; or laughing with a friend who was
laughing at himself or herself; or laughing at a professional
comedian who tickled her funny bone—for example, Red
Skelton. She would never laugh where it might hurt
someone; nor, do I think, would Red Skelton. Interestingly
enough, he was also a Hoosier. Mother and he were born
in the same year, but she outlived him by five years.
She always stayed with her core moral values about life
while still being able to laugh at herself and not let any hard
times control her....
of love for another person. This love was expressed in
various ways and evolved to what I consider one of the
highest forms—the joyful giving and receiving between two
friends who are devotedly committed to each other’s
welfare and the well-being of humanity as a whole. It was a
chance to give back in kind to one who had given me so
much, perhaps more than anyone else on earth. An impor-
tant example of this demonstration of love was in saying, “I
love you.” Our family didn’t use that phrase very much. We
loved each other, most often acted in loving ways, and
seldom felt antagonism against each other. We felt a lot of
joy together and had strong emotions. However, we just
didn’t often use the phrase “I love you.” That was a general
description of our family behavior. In reality, “I love you”
is just a term—just three words. It indicates affection and
sincerity, but the degree of those qualities is best interpreted
by watching the countenance of the speaker, listening to his
or her heart.
As the AD began to increasingly develop in Mother, I
found myself starting to say “I love you.” I believe this
started naturally as a way to assure her that I was there for
her and always would be. This increased her sense of
security and being grounded while the Alzheimer’s was
destroying the pathways of logic in her brain.
When Mother went to the nursing home, I increased the
love confirmations. At least twice a day I would tell her I
loved her. Sometimes she would be shy and silent, but the
declaration would bring a smile to her face. Mostly, she
sincerely replied to me, “I love you, too.” As the disease
attacked her verbal abilities, words dropped from her reply.
Over time, “I love you, too” changed to “Love you, too”
then to “Love you” then to “Love” and finally to “Uv”
when she could speak no longer. After that, she replied
with a happy smile and finally a beatific smile.
*****
My mother loved to laugh. It was always laughing with
people but never at anyone. An exception would be
laughing at herself; or laughing with a friend who was
laughing at himself or herself; or laughing at a professional
comedian who tickled her funny bone—for example, Red
Skelton. She would never laugh where it might hurt
someone; nor, do I think, would Red Skelton. Interestingly
enough, he was also a Hoosier. Mother and he were born
in the same year, but she outlived him by five years.
She always stayed with her core moral values about life
while still being able to laugh at herself and not let any hard
times control her....
Copyright ©2006 Heydon Buchanan. All Rights Reserved.
| CHAPTER 10 LOVE AND LAUGHTER |
The entire sum of existence is the magic of
being needed by just one person.
—Vii Putnam
being needed by just one person.
—Vii Putnam