Alzheimer’s disease and the grieving process is a long-term affair. As Alzheimer’s disease progresses, there will be plenty of times you may feel grief, loss, regret, sorrow, and even fear. You watch as little pieces of your loved one randomly disappear over a long period of time, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
When you see, they forget how to do something they taught you to do. When they can’t recall a shared memory. When they want to go home, and they are home. When they seem to know who you are, you find out they think you are their husband or wife or their father or mother instead of their son or daughter. When they talk and nothing but gibberish comes out.
End-stage Alzheimer’s disease can last a long time, but death finally comes. When it does, you start grieving again. Remember that everyone grieves in their own way in their own time. Please be compassionate, patient, supportive, and understanding of others as they go through the grieving process.
This is something I came across years ago. I tried to find the author of this to give them credit but I could not find them. So it remains the author unknown. I hope you like it.
“Alright here it goes, I’m old and what that means is that I’ve survived (so far), and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, dad, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child.
But here’s my two cents. I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter.” I don’t want it to be something that passes.
My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gorged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.
As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage, and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.
In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function.
You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart.
You can see them coming—an anniversary, a birthday, Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.
Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves and lots of shipwrecks.”
If Tomorrow Starts Without Me…
by David Romano
When tomorrow starts without me,
and I’m not here to see.
If the sun should rise and find your eyes,
all filled with tears for me.
I wish so much you wouldn’t cry,
the way you did today.
While thinking of the many things,
we didn’t get to say.
I know how much you love me,
as much as I love you.
And each time that you think of me,
I know you’ll miss me too.
But when tomorrow starts without me,
please try to understand.
That an angel came and called my name,
and took me by the hand.
He said my place was ready,
in heaven far above.
And that I’d have to leave behind,
all those I dearly love.
But as I turned and walked away,
a tear fell from my eye.
For all my life I’d always thought,
I didn’t want to die.
I had so much to live for,
so much left yet to do.
It seemed almost impossible,
that I was leaving you.
I thought of all the yesterdays,
the good ones and the bad.
I thought of all the love we shared,
and all the fun we had.
If I could relive yesterday,
just even for a while.
I’d say goodbye and kiss you,
and maybe see you smile.
But then I fully realized,
that this could never be.
For emptiness and memories,
would take the place of me.
When I thought of worldly things,
I might miss come tomorrow.
I thought of you and when I did,
my heart was filled with sorrow.
When I walked through heavens gates,
I felt so much at home.
God looked down and smiled at me,
from his great golden throne.
He said, “This is eternity,
and all I’ve promised you”.
Today your life on earth has passed,
but here life starts anew.
I promise no tomorrow,
but today will always last.
And since each day is the same,
there’s no longing for the past.
You have been so faithful,
so trusting and so true.
Though there were times you did some things,
you knew you shouldn’t do.
But you have been forgiven,
and now at last you’re free.
So won’t you come and take my hand,
and share my life with me?
So when tomorrow starts without me,
don’t think we’re far apart.
For every time you think of me,
I’m right here in your heart.
I found the following video comforting during my times of grief. I really love this rendition of – Somewhere Over the Rainbow by the late Hawaiian musician Israel Kamakawiwo’ole (Kah-MAH-kah-VEE-voh-OH-lay), a.k.a. Bruddah Iz or IZ. I hope this helps others during the grieving process as much as it did me. Enjoy! Blessings to Bruddah Iz and his family.
I’ll end this with my favorite quote regarding the grieving process and bereavement.
“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.” – Washington Irving