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Believing in Relationship

Choose Love. Without it, this beautiful Love,

Life is nothing but a burden.
Rumi
The path of Alzheimers is so highly unpredictable. As my caregiving
companions (including families, medical professionals, and scientists)
and I walked this path with persons with the disease, we lived the
questions the world is asking about the meaning and purpose of
Alzheimers. We were often challenged by what we encountered along the
way. More often, we were surprised. There is no doubt the path we
walked along with persons with Alzheimers was not always clear. Our
role in the lives of our loved ones, however, was always clear. Our role
was to love them every step of the way.
One of the great unknowns on this journey through Alzheimers is
how long a person will live with this disease. Although it is a terminal
illness because there is no cure, some consider Alzheimers as a
disability since afflicted persons can live with declining abilities for four
to twenty years.i Rather than preparing for an imminent death,
seemingly endless adapting is required.
This long journey home for persons who have Alzheimers will
eventually lead to a fork in the road. One path leads them into silence,
isolation, and loneliness. The other path, relationship, leads them to a
life rich with communication, connection, meaning, and love. Because of
the dependent nature of Alzheimers, especially during the advanced
stages, family caregivers and caring professionals will determine which
path those afflicted will travel.
My eighty-two year-old friend Constance knows that Alzheimers
afflicts 50 percent of people over eighty-five. She is in remarkably good
health; however, she still fears that she will get this disease. Constance is
not alone. The New York Times reports that Americans are more afraid of
Alzheimers than of dying.ii Constance expressed her fear to a friend, who
consoled her and calmed her fears by saying, Well, if there is someone
who understands the disease to love you and take really good care of
you, maybe it wouldnt be so bad.
Increasing our understanding and our loving will best qualify us to
be effective caregivers for and companions to persons with Alzheimers on
their journeys home. This effort, however, will also enhance our own
journeys. Our own healing begins in true encounter with others. . . .

Jade C. Angelica. All Rights Reserved. Published by Skinner House Books

Overcoming our fear of mortality and dread of Alzheimers will

allow us to experience the awe-inspiring potential for transformation.
Moms last word embodied this potential.
The last word I heard Mom speak was on my birthday during the
summer of 2007. For Mothers Day that year, I had sent her a framed
picture of us taken in the front yard of our house when I was two months
old. She was holding me. Her advocate at the nursing home wrote me a
note sharing Moms reaction to the photo. I could tell she enjoyed it, the
advocate wrote, as her eyes were on the picture for a good long time
while holding it. By the time my birthday arrived in August of that year,
I was with Mom in Iowa. I took the picture down from the wall in her
room and showed it to her. Mom immediately took it from me and held it
tightly with both hands. She looked at me, then at the baby in the
picture. These were long, intent gazes. Mom looked at me again, her
inquiring blue eyes meeting my receptive blue eyes. Then she clearly said
my name: Jade.
Until that moment, I wasnt sure if Mom realized I was her
daughter. Her last word, however, connecting me to the baby picture,
told me that she knew I belonged to her. Even in the later stages of
Alzheimers, some part of Moms brain could still make a relational
connection, and with her remaining capacity, she spoke one last word so
that I would know she recognized me.
What a gift I was given, the forever cherished memory of hearing
my mothers last word! Of course, I didnt know at the time that it would
be her last word. But there were even greater gifts to be received. On the
surface, there was the heart-opening gift of knowing that Moms last
word was my name and that she knew me. But on a deeper level, this
one word strengthened my faith in my mission. Mom knew who I was.
She knew I was there with her on this journey. I hoped, believed, that in
knowing her daughter, Jade, was with her, Mom felt safe, secure,
comforted, and loved as she walked deeper into the mystery of
Alzheimers disease on her way home.
Taken from Where Two Worlds Touch
Written by Jade C. Angelica

Paul Raia, Habilitation Therapy: A New Starscape, in Enhancing the Quality of Life in Advanced
Dementia, edited by Ladislav Volcer and Lisa Bloom-Charette (Philadelphia: Brunner/Mazel
Taylor & Francis Group, 1999).
ii N. R. Kleinfield, Alzheimers in the News: A Behind the Scenes Special Report: More Than
Death, Fearing a Muddled Mind, New York Times, November 11, 2002.
i