A
few weeks ago I was running in a nearby park. This park has a path
that stretches for miles, but a small section is interrupted by a
neighbourhood. It was here that I happened to be, on a lovely warm
fall evening.
Still
on the path, I ran up a short but steep hill that precedes this
neighbourhood. At the top, I noticed an elderly woman walking by
herself. She had stopped some university students, asking them where
a certain street was. The students tried to explain that it was some
distance from where she was, and they were as helpful as they could
be in directing her to her destination.
In
an instant, I realized this woman needed more help than just
directions. I approached her (as well as another young woman who had
a cell phone). After asking her some basic questions including the
phone number to call home, it confirmed my suspicion. This dear woman
had some form of serious memory loss.
Eventually
I was able to contact a daughter who was going to pick her up, as
well as locate her father who I suspected had similar memory issues.
I assured the daughter I would stay with her mother until she
arrived.
During
those minutes that we stood together, it was a very humbling
experience. She felt humiliated that this had happened, and fearful
that she would lose her freedom. She was so grateful I was there, and
even put her arms around to hug and thank me. I reassured her that
none of this was her fault and that we was doing the best she could.
We both cried a little.
Then
her daughter came, and whisked her off..
As
I resumed my run, I wept. So many emotions went through me in a
matter of moments. I feel them now, weeks later as I write this post.
It
brought feelings up of my own mother, who is also living with
dementia. The vulnerability, the frustration and the fear that comes
with the realization that the memory is slipping away. The poignant
fragility of life when something as precious as our minds begins to
leave us forever.
It
made me think of the daughter, and how I could so relate to the alarm
in her voice on the phone, in both the tears of relief and
frustration as she hugged her mother upon arrival. I've been there
many times and in many different ways. There is no road map here as
one cares for a parent at this stage of life. It is such a bitter
sweet experience.
It
reminded me of how much we need each other in this lifetime. It
calls me to be there for others, even if I don't always know the
answer or do the right thing.
I
just have to try.
Namaste. _/l\_
Namaste. _/l\_