That is beautiful, Mr. Tobin. Thank you for sharing your heart, soul, and love for your Deborah.
I see people in the comments who don't realize this is not an essay about Alzheimer's or what it is to be a caretaker for someone with Alzheimer's. It is an essay about love and presence.
I was a hospice volunteer for a couple years, and all my…
That is beautiful, Mr. Tobin. Thank you for sharing your heart, soul, and love for your Deborah.
I see people in the comments who don't realize this is not an essay about Alzheimer's or what it is to be a caretaker for someone with Alzheimer's. It is an essay about love and presence.
I was a hospice volunteer for a couple years, and all my patients had Alzheimer's. I was lucky to find a key that drew out each of them for a few moments at a time. One lady was totally unresponsive until I came in with my dog. Daisy would go up to her, and suddenly there was a spark. She would pet Daisy, calling her "Luke" after her own dog from her youth, and begin talking about her family. Her son told me Daisy looked like Luke, and that her stories were true ones. She couldn't sustain more than a few minutes, but she was there.
My point is that I wasn't quite sure what I was going to find when these patients were assigned to me to visit. What I found was beautiful people who loved animals, and mountains, and music, and their children, even if they could only come out for a moment. But that moment of presence was real.
I have been a caretaker, and it is a relentless and unforgiving job, for sure, no matter how much we love, but I know that is not what this essay is about.
Blessings to you and your beautiful Deborah. I wish you many present moments.
That is beautiful, Mr. Tobin. Thank you for sharing your heart, soul, and love for your Deborah.
I see people in the comments who don't realize this is not an essay about Alzheimer's or what it is to be a caretaker for someone with Alzheimer's. It is an essay about love and presence.
I was a hospice volunteer for a couple years, and all my patients had Alzheimer's. I was lucky to find a key that drew out each of them for a few moments at a time. One lady was totally unresponsive until I came in with my dog. Daisy would go up to her, and suddenly there was a spark. She would pet Daisy, calling her "Luke" after her own dog from her youth, and begin talking about her family. Her son told me Daisy looked like Luke, and that her stories were true ones. She couldn't sustain more than a few minutes, but she was there.
My point is that I wasn't quite sure what I was going to find when these patients were assigned to me to visit. What I found was beautiful people who loved animals, and mountains, and music, and their children, even if they could only come out for a moment. But that moment of presence was real.
I have been a caretaker, and it is a relentless and unforgiving job, for sure, no matter how much we love, but I know that is not what this essay is about.
Blessings to you and your beautiful Deborah. I wish you many present moments.