The Most Loving Thing

By Dizzy -- WSA Support Group Leader, Forum and WSA Member 

A year ago today I walked out of the assisted living community without her.  It was quiet--deeply quiet--walking alone to my rented car and driving away.  Away.  A dreadful word loomed just beyond my sense of exhaustion, relief and freedom.  I didn't think about it head-on, but it lurked there waiting.  Abandonment.

A series of illness had hijacked her, and me, and dropped us in a strange land.  Her with dementia, me with my own madness for which I have no name.  It is the madness of loss--loss of a lovely home, a good job, friends, family, retirement, travel, community, intimacy, companionship--peace. 

Madness of subordination of self to the every need she expressed from simple basics of life to the complex needs of rehab--possibilities never realized.  Possibilities once quashed that left me spent, angry and desperate.  I had thoughts of suicide.

And then I stumbled into Wellspouse.  Years of well-meaning but non-understanding friends, family, church members and others, had not prepared me for the oasis of my first Wellspouse support group meeting.  I found myself drinking wine with five others whose lives seemed more desperate than mine.  To every whining complaint I offered, each individual looked into my eyes and said, "I know".  And I knew they knew.  It was all there--the years of trying, moving on, finding a new normal, looking for solutions--being well spouses.  I laughed and I cried.  I haven't stopped either laughing or crying.

A few months after that first meeting I found myself leaving her in her own community, separate from me, but cared for by others.  A year later, that dreadful word, that lurking monster "abandonment" has faded.  Not disappeared, just faded.  In its place I have a new conscious thought, "It is the most loving thing."  Most loving for her--most loving for me.  She has adapted to a life within the community.  Her days are full.  I have moved forward.....not far.....but forward.  There is no nirvana in my life, not now, probably not tomorrow.  But I have hope.  And I no longer see myself in the mirror and think, "abandoner!"  Instead, I realize that I am caring for her--in the most loving way.

Dizzy “ WS Support Group Leader, Forum and WSA Member