“I know I don’t have any rights to these, but…” Before
I could say anything, my wife told Jerry, “Of course Jerry. You can have
these.” It began with a painting and ended up with a pillow. Realizing that
Alzheimer’s Dementia would ultimately claim victory over my mom, discussions on
what to do with her possessions began some time ago. When it came down to it,
there were really only a few items that carried with them enough sentiment for
me to wish to have upon her death. One was her Cedar Chest because it had the
uncanny ability to take me back to my childhood where I would pause and be
transported to another time and place full of youthful memories.
The other item was this painting of the sunset which
hung on my mom’s wall for the last few decades. To me this represented her love
for the beach as it depicted a sunset from the viewpoint from a beach overlooking
a coastline. In all honesty, when Jerry asked for this item, my heart stopped
ever so briefly. Fortunately, I didn’t even have enough time to think about it
as it found its way into the hands of my wife. Jerry was just sitting alone in
what used to be my mom’s room only hours before. He looked empty and lonely. As
much as my wife and I (and his family the night before) tried to let him know
he was loved, there was now a missing piece in his daily life/love routine. My
wife simply quickly disappeared with the painting.
As I paused for a moment and reflected for a bit with
Jerry on the time he spent with my mom, my wife returned with a picture on her
phone of the new residence of this beach sunset. Looking like it belonged in
its new setting brought a smile to all of our faces. Jerry realized that there
was an empty space on the wall right next to his room door and just knew this
painting would be a perfect fit. And he was right. Not only will this painting
fill a void on a wall, but it will also help the void in Jerry’s heart each
time he returns to his room at the end of a long day.
Believe it or not, I was still a little “miffed” at
the painting not finding a place at my house. You might be saying, “Mike,
really? Get over it.” And you would be correct. And don’t worry, that feeling
of jealousy of mine was short-lived. Soon after the painting had found its new
home, Jerry, holding back tears, explained why that painting had so much
meaning for him. You see, part of the way Jerry showed my mom love DAILY was to
type out songs they would sing together and slowly build a library of these
songs in a 3-ring binder. Jerry shared with us, “Birdie and I would sing You Are My Sunshine to each other, and I
would just sing it to her these last few weeks as she could no longer really
sing. This painting reminds me of those times.” I don’t miss that painting much
anymore because it has found a greater purpose.
As my wife and I
listened to Jerry, we began to better understand him. Listening was so valuable
to all of use during this challenging season of life. I am so glad that I paused
just long enough to listen to Jerry before letting emotions cloud my thinking
and do something ridiculous like keeping that painting for myself. My mom loved
the beach. Her love for the beach found its way onto a painting and now into
Jerry’s heart. Isn’t it funny how richer we become when we listen to others,
especially in times of sorrow? Thanks for letting me listen Jerry. Who is going
to bless you next as you listen to them?
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