Our friend Joyce rang and told me of her visit to see John, her husband, in care. He was as usual unaware of her visit and after some 20 minutes she went to leave when he called her back.
She wrote this of her sad visit.
Painful Memories..
Is there an end to the sadness of heartache
When all around are reminders of happier days.
The love of music that takes you to a special place
Alone, and wishing it wasn’t always this way.
He sits in his chair, unable to walk and barely talk.
A beautiful man who gave his all to life and family
Most times now too difficult to break into his world
As his tired body drifts into untroubled dreams.
We watch and wait for signs of recognition
Willing his face to light up for just a second
Validating that his life with us can still be remembered,
Those eyes that once spoke volumes, now lifeless.
Just as it seems he is trapped in a dark passage
He sometimes comes back to life, as we know it.
Uttering aloud words that are very clear, to remind us
He still has thoughts and feelings of bygone days.
Today was a sad day, with words now etched upon my soul.
“Why wont you stay – this has to change,”
“All I want to do is teach and talk my head off,
But no one can understand me”
“Where are my family?” he said.
And who could possibly have believed
These memories were still within his mind.
I cannot think of a worse imprisonment.
Joy Rowe
30th April, 2011
Over the years John has been in care, I have visited him and often not really had a glimmer of recognition of my presence. John was an academic at a local university and a good friend. Lewy Body Disease stole his character and personality.
Today, I and a friend, went to visit Bronwyn Owen who taught us in the 1940s. She recently celebrated her 102nd birthday and whilst she was chatty, we doubt she really knew who we were. When we visited her on her 100th birthday she recalled both our families and remembered all the names.