A Ghost In This House

I cry fairly easily now days when I am home alone. After spending four or five hours with Gregory each day that Manny has been out with a cold, I experience such wonderful, new, little touches of Gregory that I didn't realize I have been missing.

Some are glimpses of Gregory's knowing who and what and where he is. Some are celebrations of our love. Some are demonstrations of his trying to communicate with my agreeing supportively to who knows what. Some are little, whispered, "I love you" from his lips. Some are rocking together in our sorrow. Some are tears of joy. Others are tears of loss.

Then I come home to my empty house. That screams out his absence. That screams out "Never More." And I cry.

I love my home, I enjoy being here, but when I allow myself, I despair at Gregory's not being here with me.

This evening I have been watching "American Voices," a PBS special about all types of American music that is hosted by my friend opera singer Renee Flemming. One of her guests Alison Krauss, a Country Western singer, sang this song below. 

And I cried. And I felt a loss so great that if I allowed myself to visit it too deeply, I could not breath and would die as quickly as Gregory dies slowly. And as much as he is no longer the man he was, I so dread his death and his leaving me, and I cry and I die.

ALISON KRAUSS LYRICS

"Ghost In This House"

I don't pick up the mail
I don't pick up the phone
I don't answer the door
I'd just as soon be alone
I don't keep this place up
I just keep the lights down
I don't live in these rooms
I just rattle around

I'm just a ghost in this house
I'm just a shadow upon these walls
As quietly as a mouse I haunt these halls
I'm just a whisper of smoke
I'm all that's left of two hearts on fire
That once burned out of control
You took my body and soul
I'm just a ghost in this house

I don't care if it rains
I don't care if it's clear
I don't mind staying in
There's another ghost here
He sits down in your chair
And he shines with your light
And he lays down his head
On your pillow at night

I'm just a ghost in this house
I'm just a shadow upon these walls
I'm living proof of the damage
Heartbreak does
I'm just a whisper of smoke
I'm all that's left of two hearts on fire
That once burned out of control
And took my body and soul
I'm just a ghost in this house
Oh, I'm just a ghost in this house

Looks like a drink coaster ... so drink up ... and toast Life!

Windshield Wipers

Did you know that when you cry, your tears splash your eyeglasses?

Caregiving

Gregory, as reported by his companion, cried a lot the other day. Crying, sobbing, big tears. But seemingly tears of joy. Perhaps remembering our time in Paris while listening in the living room with the companion to the singing of Edith Piaf.

Same night, Gregory and I watching "Send in the Midwifes" a PBS series about post WWI England, poor section of town, lots of children and pregnant mothers as served by four nuns and four midwives.

This episode was heavy, not only with child but also with one of older nuns who has Alzheimer's, one of the pregnant mothers who is black and shunned by her neighbors because of her color, and an older wife who is emotionally abused by her husband.

The episode ends well with the Mother Superior supporting the nun with Alzheimer's who is praying that she be protected from the devils that attack her. "There are no devils here Sister Monica. Only angels. And when you forget things, we will be here to remember for you."

One of the other pregnant white mothers who almost falls down the stairs is caught and helped by the black mother and the barriers of race hatred begin to fade. Later when the black mother is having birthing contractions and cannot contact the midwives, the white mother helps get her to the convent for help.

Finally the abused mother spends a lovely lunch with her grown son who is visiting, for the first time standing up to her abusive husband telling him, maybe for the first time, what she thinks. When she returns the husband has realized how important she is to him and prepares her dinner. A new softness has arrived.

Through Gregory's sobbing at the end of Send in the Midwives he was able to say, "I want to be able to help ... others." We rocked and I assured him he does help others and listed how many and in what ways. It was an impressive list.

Just Reporting In

Today will probably be a 

Cry For More Than Fifteen Minutes
Day

What is Your Name Follow Up

After we were both cleaned up for bed, and I was sitting here writing about Gregory's not knowing my name, he crawled into our unmade bed and covered his head with the blanket.

I sat down beside him and asked, "How are you doing?"

"Not well."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"So you didn't remember that you have Alzheimer's?"

"Yes, I do."

"It must have been hard realizing that you didn't know my name."

"Yes it was. Your name is Michael."

"And yours?"

"Greg."

"So that is all over for now. You know I love you very much. And I know you love me very much. And I AM HERE FOR YOU."

He cried. I hugged. We kissed. We laughed.

Another Happy Ending.

Taken from: http://www.tricycle.com/wisdom-collection

Wisdom's Questions

When it’s time to suffer, you should suffer; when it’s time to cry, you should cry. Cry completely. Cry until there are no more tears and then recognize in your exhaustion that you’re alive. The sun still rises and sets. The seasons come and go. Absolutely nothing remains the same and that includes suffering. When the suffering ends wisdom begins to raise the right questions.

e

Seido Ray Ronce

Meditation

Session 4. The purpose of today's meditation was to bring one closer to one's Essential Nature and to be better able to distinguish it from one's Essential Self. The Essential Nature is the underlying nature of all existence of which each one of us is a part. The Essential Self is what makes each one of us a unique person along with our interpretation of who we are and our self perceptions of the world we live in.

I recently have been reading about this same topic in The Fifth Agreement by Don Miguel Ruiz. He talks about how we, as humans, come to make sense of our world. "We put words together from nowhere; we make them up. Humans invent every sound, every letter, every graphic symbol. We hear a sound like "A" and say, 'This is the symbol for that sound.' We draw a symbol to represent the sound, we put the symbol and the sound together, (use them to create words) and we give it (them) a meaning (s.) Every word in our mind has a meaning, but it's not real, it's not truth. It an agreement with ourselves, and with everybody else who learns the same symbology."

This varies from language to language, from culture to culture, from belief system to belief system. The way we describe ourselves is not the truth, it is an agreement on the understanding of our symbolic language. The truth, or Essential Nature of each one of us is what exists from the day we were born and before we complicated it with our "Agreements."

Besides our creation and agreement with others on language use, we also learn from others as they assign values like good and bad, fat and skinny, beautiful and ugly, etc. These agreements are not truth (Essential Nature) but we come to accept them anyway from the important people in our lives like our parents, siblings, family, friends, teachers, religious leaders based on their agreements (Essential Selves.)

So to bring us back to the session, it was a difficult one for me. For some reason I became frustrated and fearful. I was unable to look closely at my Essential Nature and the Self kept getting in the way. I felt sad, very alone, somewhat depressed, focused on my lacks and faults, and on the continuing and increasing difficulties in being supportive of Gregory. I was quite far from being able to get past that to embrace the true me, with whom at times I am able to visit, but not this time.

Towards the end of the session I became anxious and as suggested early on in the beginning sessions, I visited my Internal Resource where I could feel safe and protected. I hope to write about that later but suffice it to say it exists in my visualization of an old forest, with a small house nestled among the trees, and at the edge forest - the ocean.

It did calm me down but after the session I carried the heaviness with me out to the car where I cried for a while and then went to Pannino's for an Italian Beef Sandwich with lucious hot French Fries. I'll feel better tomorrow.

Be Strong

Life in Retrospect

So in talking to Gregory about my taking over more, I said that there was no way of my going through these major changes nicely without making him feel bad, so I need a couple of days to adjust to the changes and then I will be able to be more gracious.

He cried, held my hand, and said, "I am so so sad for you. I am so sad. I love you so much."

I held his hand back and said, "I know it's not your fault. Our love for each other is never in question. I am and will be here for you. We will get through this the best we can. This is our life now. We will get through."

By this afternoon we got a good report from the skin doctor, browsed Create and Barrel, bought a massage vest from Brookstone, had a great hamburger at EPIC burger, cruised the store manager, went to Dominic's for a few groceries, and are now having our afternoon coffee.

It was (is) as if today (was) is no different from any other day. A friend Nancy said about herself when having night time panic, "Life always looks better in the daylight." That saying has helped me through many a night. To help with the day I might add, "Life always looks better later or in retrospect!"

On Vacation

Time to get up. I stay in bed a little longer because he usually takes about a half an hour to get his bathrooming completed.

He comes back to say, I need help with knobs and things.

You’re not taking a shower now are you? 

No. I need light.

Why don’t you go back and try to figure out how to turn the light on by yourself?

He gets mad. Fuck You! (I think this is a first.) Why are you treating me like this? He goes back into the bathroom, no light, and sits on the toilet to move his bowels. 

Hate talking about this as I have always said that one one way to stay young is to never to talk about your bowels and here I am talking about bowels … well at least not my own. Lately he has begun to forget, while sitting on the pot, if he wee’ed, if he went, if he wiped.

Finally I show him how to turn on the light. Mention that he seems to be at an all time low. Say I hate treating him like an invalid. Say that after four days in the same hotel room I would think he would know how to turn on the light. Say that I can help him brush his teeth if he would like.

He spends an inordinate amount of time showering (after I got the water running,) brushing his teeth, cleaning up. He isn’t able to see the deodorant which is on the counter in front of him. He looks at the travel soap dish and wonders aloud where the top is, until he taps it and realizes that the lid is on, it’s just clear. He is not sure where to rehang his wash cloth.

I help him select his clothes and suggest a few times how to dress. You might want to put your pants on before your shoes. I continue typing a blog avoiding dispair when sitting on the side of the bed he comments, “You know … I think … it has to do … with … fear … or something. 

Of course I melt. I see he is near tears and go over to him and hug him close. He begins to cry. I sing-song to him, “You have nothing to fear. I am here to protect you. I will never let anything happen to you. I will take care of you. But I WILL challenge you now and then and I won’t always be nice to you. And we laugh. And the crisis has passed for both of us. And he says he isn’t afraid anymore. And I hold back tears through most of breakfast. 

My thinking is that he may have been afraid of being in a strange place or at having such problems with everyday activities but I suspect that his fear was at angering me, causing me to be upset, and possibly fearing loss of my love. Perhaps it was fear, very much like a child’s fear when he has upset a parent, of  having love withdrawn as punishment.

Which caused me to be upset. I’ll try harder. This vacation so far has not proved to be a vacation, at least not for me. Welcome to Circle World.

The Iron Lady (CAUTION: Movie Spoiler)

Today Gregory and I went to see The Iron Lady, a movie about Margaret Thatcher who is played by Meryl Streep. After seeing Ms. Streep in Julia and Julie, I knew we had to see this one. Miss Streep is one of THE actors of our time.

Early in the movie I realized that part of telling Ms. Thatcher's story is that she, at 82, suffers from dementia which has been labeled Alzheimer's Disease. Totally unprepared. So you can imagine I cried through a lot of the movie. Not sure how Gregory felt about it. Maybe we'll discuss it in a little while over dinner. Then again, why ruin a good meal. Maybe before bedtime. Then again, why ruin a good night's sleep?

Below is the link to an article I found on the internet which talks about Ms. Thatcher's daughter and her autobiography.

Click here to go to Mary Kenny's article.

New Language

Gregory has created a new language out of his Alzheimer's.

Whether it is too cold or too hot in the condo he asks for "another tick" on the furnace.

For breakfast he likes "thin thins" with honey meaning the new thin round bread that has appeared in the grocery stores.

He let me know "Michael, Ding, Ding, Ding" happened in the kitchen as the oven reached temperature and we could begin making some cookies.

Various waves of the hands try to narrow down his message.

When he needs help with the computer he announces, "It happened again!"

Showing is always easier than telling, which ironically is the professional writer's mantra.

"Over There" represents everywhere that isn't here. For example, he is looking forward to going over there (Mexico,) he saw a neighbor over there (in the lobby,) he wants to go over there for dinner (a restaurant we haven't been to for a while,) we need to call one of his friends over there (in California? ... John?)

"You know!" said urgently after his having tried to explain something but not being able to come up with any words at all, just huffs and puffs and hems and haws means, "Michael, please tell my story for me."

Sometimes we both get the giggles at the new language he comes up with and sometimes I cry.