Today at Lieberman

Today is Bosses day. Manny, who is so considerate and gentle with Gregory, is also very thoughtful. He brought Gregory and me a miniature potted rose bush with a sign that said, "Happy Bosses Day!"

While covering Gregory with a blanket as he settled down to a nap, I accidentally hit him in the head with Peaceful, his Teddy Bear. It didn't hurt but Gregory appropriately and loudly announced, "Boink!"

When offering him a selection of chocolate from the Godiva box, he told me, "You pick. You have good taste." As usual he enjoyed his chocolate savoring each bit for a long time with his eyes closed.

I have put together a "Memory Book," filled with 8x10 photographs of our parents, family, friends, and pets. He seemed to enjoy seeing all the familiar faces but wasn't sure what he needed to do with the information. I assured him that he just had to enjoy the memories and love. He relaxed.

I made the mistake, which I will not make again, of telling him (as we looked at the photograph of Broadway, our first cat who died some 30 years ago) that Broadway was dead now. A look of utter sorrow took over his face as the tears poured down his cheeks while he muttered, "I didn't know. No one told me. I didn't even know."

I felt so sad for him. It was as if he had found out for the first time that she was dead. I held him close and we rocked for a while until he settled down. From now on when looking at photographs I will not place the person or pet as alive or dead. No need to know.

This Evening at Lieberman

I spent three hours with Gregory today.

From 2:00-3:00, Barbara, a volunteer, played piano. I think she is older than many of the residents on the floor and her energy, or lack of it, showed in her playing.

I am not criticizing, just describing. Many residents slept, many stared, a few clapped their hands or sung. Each, in their own way, enjoyed the performance.

Back in Gregory's room, we partook of some of the food treats I had brought in: pitted cherries, fresh figs, animal cookies, refrigerated chocolate covered mini donuts, and pretzel rods.

The way to Gregory's heart is through his mouth ... really! Manny was placing a cherry on Gregory's specially handled and weighted fork and Gregory was methodically able to bring the cherry to his mouth, pull it off with his teeth, and enjoy the wonderful taste with his eyes closed.

At one point I asked Gregory to give me a cherry. It was already skewered onto his fork, I put my face close enough to him and he actually put a cherry in my mouth! Oh joy!

Later when I gave him a pretzel rod, I labeled it out-loud to him, "Pretzel! Can you say that." Without much thinking, Gregory responded, "Pretzel." Manny and I were elated, applauded, and Gregory smiled.

Gregory noticed the photograph of Julia Child which sits in a black frame on his window sill. "Oh wow!" he said, as if discovering not only the photo for the first time but also the memory's return for the first in a long time. Tears (of joy) came to him and I gave him a hug. I asked if he wanted me to tell the story? He shook his head, "Yes."

I proceeded to retell the story of how Julia Child used to live in the same neighborhood as Gregory when he lived in Boston. They used to run into each other at the butcher and developed an acquaintanceship over discussing the various cuts of meats. Gregory has always prided himself in this story and told it many times over when he was able.

On listening to my retelling with rapt attention, the tears flowed in abundance with the look of such pain, longing, remembering, being overwhelmed, uncontrollable grief, not sure exactly which emotions were really present.

I hugged him and we rocked and cried together. Sometimes I am grateful that Gregory still has emotions and is able to express them but this time I wondered if the pain was worth their recalling.

A little later he started calling, "Momma ... momma ... momma." He did this chain of three several times and the tears began again. I am not sure what prompted this or why and according to Manny, it was a first. We rocked and cried again.

Now that it was getting close to dinner time I decided I needed to try to cheer him up so I asked him if he wanted me to do "The Teddy Bear Puppet Show?" He responded by shaking his head, "Yes."

His Teddy Bear, named Peaceful, is large enough and flexible enough that when grabbed by the back of its neck, one can do a pretty good imitation of having the bear dance, sing, act silly, wave, give kisses, whatever.

So we did the usual show, Gregory began to smile, kissed Peaceful in return, and we all broke into giggles as how silly I was being.

The other day, during a similar puppet show, Gregory instead of kissing the bear, grabbed its nose in his mouth, bit hard, shook his head back and forth, and "Gurrrrrrred" as if he was a bear himself.

The Teddy Bear's name is "Peaceful." "Peaceful," Gregory repeated and we went off to dinner.