My New Home Without Gary

I have purchased and moved into a new home. For the most part, all of Gary's belongings are no longer there.  Charity has been the benefactor of almost everything. 

I have kept pictures, Gary's handmade dining table, furniture and memories.  Gone is everything else.  While packing a closet before the move, I found myself unloading a closet into a moving box.  Then I snapped and realized that I was packing Gary's winter hats, gloves and scarves.  I was just putting stuff in a box when it became apparent that I did not need to take these to the new house.  He will never need them.  Those items found their way into the charity box.  It was a stark realization, again, that he will never step foot in my new home.

While sitting in my new home watching the sun set on the mountains from my bedroom, I felt a sense of loss yet accomplishment.  In the old house, I often felt a sense that Gary would walk in the door, sit next to me and carry on a conversation like he did thousands of times before that.  In the new house, there is no eeriness around a thought like that because he has never been there.  This is solely my house without him.  I think its healthy at this point in his decline.

He is still alive.  He is declining.  He is now on mechanical food but I'm guessing soon he will be put on a puree diet since he often falls asleep mid-chew.  I've always cut his beard and moustache since he moved to the Memory Unit.  I missed last week due to the move....so, one of the caregivers tried to trim it.  As you can see, she cut it very short and referred to it as a "oops....".

 

 

 

She was trying so I showed no reaction.  I knew if Gary knew how it looked he would be embarrassed.  Its strange that I care still when I know he cannot know how it looks.  I want him to maintain any dignity he can.  He does not know me, cannot talk or walk and no longer even whispers.

 

 

During these few weeks, I have realized how very strong my near 32 years of life experiences with Gary have made me.  While I am human, I also just handle things. I break down once in a while but I always get right back on the horse. For example, the new house had a water leak with subsequent damaging being responsible for a pending duo-bathroom remodel.  So, some boxes will remain packed during construction as it makes no sense to dust up my belongings until later.

 

Heather and Xander are also moving in temporarily and we are all adjusting to life under a smaller roof.  She has helped a lot and shouldered moving many boxes while injured. 

 

I am about to be a widow.  I am alive and well. Gary will be gone soon.  Heaven will be a better place with him in it. 

 

Tomorrow, I am touring the Alzheimer's Association Office of Orange County.  Who knows what is next.....

 



Months to live....not weeks

Glen Campbell, a well known public figure with Alzheimer's died yesterday.  Despite the fact that I was never really a fan and certainly did not know him, I got very upset.  Why? Because I realized that no one has any power over this dreadful disease.

So, after work, I decided to lick my wounds by going to visit Gary.  When I arrived at the Memory Unit, he was sitting up, almost straight with his head down but wide awake.  The caregivers reported an afternoon of being awake, enjoying the music hour. Most importantly, his atrophy had seemed to subside for awhile and he was sitting straight.  It had to be more comfortable. 

I held his hand, brushed his hair, stroked his arm and saw a glimmer of a reaction.  It was a precious time.  I had a meeting and had to leave prematurely.  It was awful walking out knowing that such a precious moment was occurring and may not happen again....ever.   Duty called and I left.  I told him that I would be back tomorrow.....no reaction.

Every day I wonder.....the Hospice employees give me indications that they do not feel his death will be in the next few weeks unless there is some sort of system meltdown.  His vitals are stable so the word "months" was used.  

Meanwhile, I signed all the paperwork to buy a house.  It should close in both our names this week. It is odd that we are homeowners again but living apart.  What a cruel trick the universe has played on us.

A Memorial for another Memory Unit Resident

Gary's Hospice Social Worker called me on Wednesday.  "Ada, how are you doing?"  I've heard that question before from a friend.  The implications are the same. The real statement/question is:  "Gary is declining rapidly and we all see it, but do you?  If you don't see it, you need to and if you do see it, are you coping with it?"  It would be a lot easier if they just asked the real question.

I had surgery on Thursday and am on restricted movement....can't lift more than 10 pounds and am enjoying pain killers.  I helped Heather (she did all the work)with a garage sale this morning and then went to see Gary. 

As I entered the Assisted Living Portion of the building, I saw the tell tale wreath of flowers and the framed picture of one of Gary's neighbors.  Ron has lived there since before Gary moved in.....he died on Thursday.  The caregivers had transformed his room into a memorial of his life.  The man was a gifted song writer.....I never knew.  I have seen him every week for over a year and only saw the man who was trapped in a demented shell.  I never thought of the family and 50 year wife portrayed in his life pictures.  I guess when Gary dies, many may feel the same of him.  They never knew the man I know and loved. 

Yes, I said "loved".  Other than the body that remains, the man I loved is gone.  Today, I was informed that yesterday Hospice put him on mechanical food since he has been falling asleep mid-chew during most meals. They served him soup, chicken and biscuits and green beans....chopped fine.  I fed him all of it.  He ate every bite and stayed awake.

After lunch, I moved him into his room which currently houses only him.  No roommate.  They have all died.  I'm sure there will be another person there soon as there are SO many needing care.  The other half of his room seems so barren and symbolic of the life that remains there.  Serene and austere. Such a contrast of what the old Gary would have wanted. 

I trimmed his beard and moustache very short.  I clipped his nails and tried very hard not to hurt the atrophied hand that used to be his primary.  While I was trimming his beard, I noticed the cord was getting tighter and harder to maneuver.  Gary was holding it with his good hand and had an incredible grip on the cord. I pried it out of his hands and finished the project.  He still looks handsome despite the dreaded FTD stare.  If only he could wake up and say one more "Thank you, Babes."  I know that I will never again hear his voice. 

I wheeled him back into the living area and kissed him on the cheek to say goodbye.  I told him that I have bought a new house and will be moving soon and that I needed to go as I have a lot to do.  I touched his good hand and immediately, he applied a grip of a man who knew someone there loved him.  I realized that I had nothing more important to do.  I sat there until his grip loosened and he fell asleep.  I knew he would be put to bed soon, so I kissed his cheek and told him that I love and miss him.

As I drove from the building, I cried a warm tear.  Only one.  I'm sad but don't seem to have any more tears for now.

Pray not for me but for him.  May his passage to his Lord's house be peaceful, sweet and painless.