February 12, 2020

I rarely post anymore about my visits with Jane, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been showing up for her every single week. There just isn’t much to write about. The visits are sad enough – I don’t really feel inspired to share that sorrow on FB too.

Jane rarely engages with me anymore. She rarely recognizes me. She rarely speaks any type of jibberish. She rarely has light in her eyes.

But most of the time, she still wants to hold my hand – which tells me she is still there – somewhere…..buried deep beneath this terrible disease. I believe, somewhere, in some way, Jane does know I am there. She does still know me. She does still feel her love for me. Why else would she still be here with us, trapped inside this monster called dementia, unless she was holding on for us – the ones she loves who come to visit her – every day.

I tell her every time I visit her it’s ok to let go. To stop fighting. To stop worrying about us. I tell her every time, I believe we don’t die – merely our souls leave this body. I tell her she will still be able to watch over us, to visit us, & talk with us in our dreams.

And I still talk to her about my life. I tell her about my job, my running, my crazy dogs. I just talk to her while she holds my hand & we enjoy the fresh air outside. I try to remind myself to cherish this time with her because a time will come where she will no longer be here – in this body. And while I will feel relief she is no longer suffering, I am sure I will miss visiting with her – even though our visits feel so one sided to me now.