I looked across the room and was struck by her peaceful face. Seeing her there, in that chair in the corner of a room lit only by the light streaming in through a window near her, it was easy to imagine that she was just as she was in the years when I knew her best. Then, I saw her almost every day, spent time with her, laughed with her, cried with her, and always left her better for having been with her. Now, in this moment as I studied her, she was as she was then, quiet, gentle, more at peace with herself and her life than perhaps any person I have ever known. I wish I could tell her name but she can't give me permission to do so because she is really not there any more. She is still here but not truly because she is no longer that person I knew.
She has gracefully descended into the abyss of her disease. Alzheimers is a sad thing indeed, robbing a sufferer of self before life. She is waging a quiet battle, on her own terms. I found it somehow triumphant to note that she was still a vision of grace, of seasoned beauty. Her hair was soft and well groomed, her clothes classic, a testament to her lifelong sense of Southern propriety and understated style.
I made my way across the room to her, wishing I did not feel so strongly compelled to do so. Knowing that she no longer knows me causes me more pain than I can say. But this moment wasn't about my reticence. It was about her deserving to be honored, to be dignified by my recognition of her. Taking her lovely hand in mine and gazing into her searching eyes, I was moved when she said, "I believe you are someone I have always loved". This sort of vestigial grace is God's gift to her even in this shadowy hour of her journey to Him. I managed to say, "Yes, and I have always loved, and still love you." Her smile in response gratified and refreshed my soul.
Not long ago, I read in the scripture of Paul thanking the Corinthians for their willingness to help and support others. In that passage he refers to a visit by several friends saying, "By their coming they refreshed my soul." Paul says such persons, such "refreshers", deserve recognition.* My dear friend isn't who she once was, but she is who she most essentially always was . . . a refresher of souls. She deserves to be recognized.
"May God grant me the grace to refresh the souls of others. Amen"
Dr. Mike
*I Corinthians 16: 17-18, NIV
She would be so proud to know that you spoke of her in a way that blessed others... especially me! I'm so glad you have begun this blog so my blessings from you aren't limited to two days per week.
ReplyDeleteKnowing this woman as I do, this is so good! She is a blessing.
ReplyDeleteThere is a somber beauty in melancholy that you have captured perfectly. I almost feel as if I know this woman. I suppose we all know, or have known a woman like her. Thank you for giving us a glimpse of this gentle soul.
ReplyDeleteRJ