Each day seems to have a remembrance. Some more emotional than others. But the older I get it seems there is something different that I can recall each day. Yep I’m that old!
Sunday is my oldest sons’ birthday. He turns twenty-eight years old. Yes the day he turned eighteen and had to register for the selective service was 2001. I don’t know anyone who was in New York that day, nor do I have any inspiring tales. I remember someone called and told me to turn on the television. Half the day was gone before I told my son happy birthday that day.
The more days I live through, the more I am in awe of. (shhh.. I just ended that sentence with a preposition) See, I even remember the weird stuff! Memory is a funny thing. We take it for granted and it frustrates us when we forget things. I forget a lot, I lose words or forget what I’m talking about mid-sentence. That drives my poor DH nuts! But I make up words and my family thinks that part is funny.
Loads has been written about dementia, what it is, how it happens and even how to cope with living with someone who has it. Sorry but it doesn’t seem to soften the blow. I haven’t found any information that says “yep this, is what you do” to get through it. I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other and live through it. Just say the same thing twenty times without getting frustrated and smile. Walk outside, get in the car and scream my lungs out. Then go back in and smile.
I didn’t do that today. I didn’t smile or shut myself in the car. Today I didn’t do it right. I have to get better at this, it’s not going away. There is not a perfect formula and some days are just hard.
Finding joy in a quiet moment…