Around this time last year I got to sit with an elderly man near the last hours of his life. When I came into his room, he rasped out to me, frantic, "help!" After asking the nurse, I knelt beside his bed and spoon fed him thickened water (that he couldn't get enough of) and as drops and tears dribbled down his face unto the white sheets I stumbled with the words to say. I asked if I could read some psalms. And he said yes.
He was on the Alzheimer's unit and I saw no evidence of friends or family involved in his life. The only picture in his room was a picture of himself. I could always count on his eager smile and his saying yes to my invitation to hang out (even if it only lasted but minutes at times). He could never remember which room to go to and always wanted me to hold his hand to lead him. He used to be a great pianist but he always got shy when I asked him to tell me about his piano days. One of my favorite memories was playing with the "happiness ball." We threw back and forth a ball with question prompts that related to something positive that the catcher would get a chance to respond to after catching the ball. At one point I asked him what are some things he liked about himself and he blushed and didn't want to answer. I asked him if I could tell him what I liked about him and he said yes and he beamed when I told him.
Should I grow as old as he was, I hope God would give me the same happy, content, and humble disposition as he had. But more than anything else to be un-alone and unafraid.
My Dad would make us memorize hymns growing up. I always thought 'The Sands of Time" was particularly depressing but as I think back on this experience I instead see such a contrast of hope and joy.
He was on the Alzheimer's unit and I saw no evidence of friends or family involved in his life. The only picture in his room was a picture of himself. I could always count on his eager smile and his saying yes to my invitation to hang out (even if it only lasted but minutes at times). He could never remember which room to go to and always wanted me to hold his hand to lead him. He used to be a great pianist but he always got shy when I asked him to tell me about his piano days. One of my favorite memories was playing with the "happiness ball." We threw back and forth a ball with question prompts that related to something positive that the catcher would get a chance to respond to after catching the ball. At one point I asked him what are some things he liked about himself and he blushed and didn't want to answer. I asked him if I could tell him what I liked about him and he said yes and he beamed when I told him.
Should I grow as old as he was, I hope God would give me the same happy, content, and humble disposition as he had. But more than anything else to be un-alone and unafraid.
My Dad would make us memorize hymns growing up. I always thought 'The Sands of Time" was particularly depressing but as I think back on this experience I instead see such a contrast of hope and joy.