There is a professor in New York who refers to people with dementia as the deeply forgetful. Such an empathic way to think about our loved ones with a humanity and insight that is often forgotten.
Beautiful and much needed share, Lucy. Calls to mind this line from Norman Fischer: "Humility and kindness are good flashlights for illuminating the path of ethical conduct.” (From Taking Our Places: The Buddhist Path to Truly Growing Up)
Thank you Lucy. My husband is 16 years older than me and has mild dementia. There are so many unknowns, unpredictable behaviors, and the ground is shaky. I’ve found I can tend to try to control and keep things like they used to be as a way of coping. It can backfire because we are not the same people we used to be. I will remember your words as I go about my days and spend more time just being together. Wise words❤️
Hi Cindy, it’s so hard. I really struggled with how things looked from the outside, how some people judged me for a cleaning routine that my mum found acceptable, but anyone else would have thought, not good not caring. I sat one day after my mum got upset when I tried to convince her to wear clean clothes, and let me sort/clean, and just surrendered, then this strange thing happened, as I looked around the room at the way things were, and my mum in her clothes covered in stains, everything decaying and utterly depressing to me, I saw the peace and joy on my mums face as she stared out of the window, so I just sat and stared with her, and there was peace, and it was as though I was watching a play, and suddenly I understood that my mum was decaying, and her home was an extension of her body, to her, and she needed everyone to just her and her things decay, and I realised that was more important than caring what others thought of me. Because, how could anyone understand that journey. And of course it’s different for everyone, dementia is it’s own journey really, but that was hers. Wishing you so much love, surrender and peaceful acceptance 🙏🏽
I had tears in my eyes as I read your post, Lucy. It is so poignant, shines with the authenticity of your being. I’m so grateful you wrote about it. Wishing you so much strength, light and love.
Thank you Molehill, I remember when I was grieving many moons ago, for what at the time felt like a life lost, and a world gone crazy, not being able to bare the summer, the sunshine (which is my favourite time of year) or the sight of other people’s happiness. It’s why I almost didn’t do my substack, I know that when there is a lot of stress, warm words and seeing the beauty can make grief feel worse and can also cause anger to arise or depression. But then one day, back all those moons ago, I shifted from what had been a couple of years of grief, at a concert of beautiful music, suddenly while the grief was still in the palm of my hand, happiness glimmered in the other palm at the same time, and that’s when things started to shift for me. The grief didn’t go away, but happiness started to return, in simple ways through simple things with a bigger love for humanity, and a greater acceptance of the horrors that can be acted out. I have no answers to the latter, but for the sake of all our young ones, I want to keep that glimmer of joy alive. 🙏🏽
There is a professor in New York who refers to people with dementia as the deeply forgetful. Such an empathic way to think about our loved ones with a humanity and insight that is often forgotten.
That’s beautiful 🧡
Beautiful and much needed share, Lucy. Calls to mind this line from Norman Fischer: "Humility and kindness are good flashlights for illuminating the path of ethical conduct.” (From Taking Our Places: The Buddhist Path to Truly Growing Up)
Thank you, Dana, I nearly didn’t put this letter out 🙏🏽
This is a beautiful, brave & inspiring post, Lucy. I’m so glad you put it out. You have a precious gift. ❤️ x
😊 thank you, Georgie
Thank you Lucy. My husband is 16 years older than me and has mild dementia. There are so many unknowns, unpredictable behaviors, and the ground is shaky. I’ve found I can tend to try to control and keep things like they used to be as a way of coping. It can backfire because we are not the same people we used to be. I will remember your words as I go about my days and spend more time just being together. Wise words❤️
Hi Cindy, it’s so hard. I really struggled with how things looked from the outside, how some people judged me for a cleaning routine that my mum found acceptable, but anyone else would have thought, not good not caring. I sat one day after my mum got upset when I tried to convince her to wear clean clothes, and let me sort/clean, and just surrendered, then this strange thing happened, as I looked around the room at the way things were, and my mum in her clothes covered in stains, everything decaying and utterly depressing to me, I saw the peace and joy on my mums face as she stared out of the window, so I just sat and stared with her, and there was peace, and it was as though I was watching a play, and suddenly I understood that my mum was decaying, and her home was an extension of her body, to her, and she needed everyone to just her and her things decay, and I realised that was more important than caring what others thought of me. Because, how could anyone understand that journey. And of course it’s different for everyone, dementia is it’s own journey really, but that was hers. Wishing you so much love, surrender and peaceful acceptance 🙏🏽
A lovely thoughtful post full of perspectives that may not feel familiar but invite self-reflection.
Thank you, I couldn’t decide for a while whether to post this or not, concerned it wasn’t)t my normal uplifting posts 😊
I had tears in my eyes as I read your post, Lucy. It is so poignant, shines with the authenticity of your being. I’m so grateful you wrote about it. Wishing you so much strength, light and love.
Thank you, Svara, wishing all those back 🌻
Thank you Molehill, I remember when I was grieving many moons ago, for what at the time felt like a life lost, and a world gone crazy, not being able to bare the summer, the sunshine (which is my favourite time of year) or the sight of other people’s happiness. It’s why I almost didn’t do my substack, I know that when there is a lot of stress, warm words and seeing the beauty can make grief feel worse and can also cause anger to arise or depression. But then one day, back all those moons ago, I shifted from what had been a couple of years of grief, at a concert of beautiful music, suddenly while the grief was still in the palm of my hand, happiness glimmered in the other palm at the same time, and that’s when things started to shift for me. The grief didn’t go away, but happiness started to return, in simple ways through simple things with a bigger love for humanity, and a greater acceptance of the horrors that can be acted out. I have no answers to the latter, but for the sake of all our young ones, I want to keep that glimmer of joy alive. 🙏🏽
😘