Dementia. Stalwart Guardians.
I am writing this in a cafe. My once usual haunt. Where I used to sit with a cuppa and a muffin and not be disturbed for a while. I haven’t done that for a very long time. COVID. Change of finances. I have other places that I sit now - primarily my kitchen table or the wooden table on our balcony, the local park or the beach.
Today though I am here. Called to be honest. I’m on my way to the shops and the library and felt that I needed to stop here.I have a story to share about what happened in the cafe today, an experience that will be with me for some time.
So I walk into my once regular haunt. The staff has changed. The energy so. I walk down to the back area. I find a vacant seat, in the corner with 2 tables in front of me. I put my bag down and look across. I see a woman. An elderly woman. She looks directly at me. And I her. I smile in acknowledgement. I look at her companion and acknowledge her too. Then I look again. Time has both served this old woman well and yet not. She is elegant and sits tall. One eye looks as though she may have cataract, the other looks directly at me. Maybe she is in her early/mid 70’s. She sits with her friend that I now can see is a health care worker. On the table in front are 2 plates one on top of the other. Breakfast completed. There is also a tea pot and cup of what may have been coffee.
I recognise her. From my childhood. She is the mother of a girl I went to school with. I mentioned her surname, as I couldn't initially remember her first name. Her eyes lit up. I went over to her and said hello. Reminded her of my name and my family. I haven’t seen her in over 40 years. She asked about my mum (who died, close to 6 years ago). She asked about my dad and uncle, about whether I had a family and where I lived. I sat next to her and held her hand. Both my hands cupping and holding her elderly wrinkled ones. I felt at that moment a deeper unspoken soul connection. I still am unable to put in words what it was.
She asked me questions about my life. Did I have a family?
Where do I live? I answered and asked her questions. Her radiant smile illuminated the sadness behind her eyes.
She asked me where did I live.
If I had a family.I answered. We chatted about other things - her family, where she now lived, (still the old house that I visited as a child - with her husband and her eldest daughter). I asked after her children and possible grandchildren. A tilt of the head. A pause in her words. A small look of blankness. Her friend gently helping.
She asked where did I live.
If I had a family.I answered. She made a comment about my mum, remembering her in her younger years.
She asked where did I live.
If I had a family.I answered. She spoke of her friend (the health care worker) and what wonderful adventures they did together… sitting in cafes, sharing a cuppa, eating breakfast, people watching. “We both like to people watch” said her friend.
I only turned my gaze from this old woman’s face when her friend spoke. Looking deeply and openly into her old eyes.
She asked where did I live.
If I had a family.I still held her hand. I looked her in her eyes. I answered her question.
Her carer, her stalwart friend, had tears in her eyes.
They stood up to go. I gave her a hug. She asked where did I live. Did I have family.
There was something that passed over all three of us this morning in the cafe. Unspoken. Yet profound. Her carer had tears in her eyes.
They eventually left as they were meeting her husband and daughter across the road. They were all going visiting - to visit her sister-in-law -in a nursing home.
What happens when we get older? Why does, for some, our memory change? At what point do the memories that gift us our life experience our individuality our quirkiness our thoughts get lost, get forgotten, get jumbled, that only the sacredness of music, vibration and love can return them, or, return us, to a place of deep integrity and honour?
In my heart I am thanking the elderly woman’s family for being in a position to have a stalwart carer. I am have given thanks for this carer many times in my heart since this morning. For taking a beautiful elderly woman out to cafes. To drink coffee. Eat breakfast. People watch.I wonder what this elderly woman sees beyond the memories that maybe fading, beyond the information that may never be remembered.
And for her to visit to her sister-in-law in the nursing home was not lost on me either.
May we all have stalwart guardians who can hold that space for us. Who can answer our questions over and over. Who can be released of judgement. Who can empower us and gift us with a sense of “normality”. Who can sit with us as we people watch. No need always for conversation. Just the knowledge that they are there. That they are there for us to reach out and touch, and know that we are safe.
Stalwart guardians. Stalwart friends.
Holding that space beyond the physical and into our hearts.
In honour of all those who work in health care … thank you for holding space for those whose memories are fading. Bless you all.