Remember

by Colette Merrill

The word “Remember” can invoke many thoughts to each of us. You may even wonder where to begin. I’m sure that each of us could write a book on our own memories. I’m only thinking of the first thing that this precious word makes me want to write.

I remember the reason I fell in love with my husband. We lived in Colorado at the time and I remember the first conversation I heard him have with his mother. (His end of course.) The gentle tone in which he spoke to his mother reminded me how children are supposed to obey their parents. It made me remember that the reason we obey is because we love and respect them. He’d laugh each time she spoke of what “Muffin” (her dog and only companion) did that amused her that week. She talked about any visitors she had that week.

He spoke with deep concern about how she was doing and what needed to be done to her house. It was older and was in need of much attention. Bill’s two brothers helped as much as they could. They talked for about an hour and sometimes longer. This impressed me as them having a close relationship. This might spark a flavor of “mama’s boy” to some, but he was no “mama’s boy.”

One brother lived in Germany at this time. He was in the army. He and his wife lived on the base for a while, and then moved off base. They flew home at least couple of times each year. At those times, they visited each of their parents and took care of the needs that were a little more expensive.

The other brother lived about an hour and a half away from her and visited as much as he was able to do. He also came to visit her and if she needed shopping done, he would do it for her. He visited her on a regular basis. He was a policeman in that town he lived. From Fairbury to Grand Island was the shortest distance of the three brothers to their mother’s.

We lived in Denver, about a six hour drive, but Bill made that drive when he could, and did physical work on the house and the yard. When I began to go with him I would make meals for her. I’d put them in containers, and then in the freezer so she could just take out one for her, and heat it in the microwave. I also did housework for her that she was unable to do for herself. Their mom had arthritis, and was pretty well crippled with the disease.

For a year I listened to him call her every week without fail. He spoke to her in that same mild and caring tone each and every week. It was easy fo me to fall in love with a man who respected his mother. He treated me with the same caring tone and respectful manner. The sincerity in his voice and mannerisms spoke volumes as to what kind of man Bill was.

As the year went along, I heard conversations with his two boys in California also. This was the same manner as he spoke with his mom. Those conversations didn’t last quite as long, but the attitude, love, and respect was shown to them as well.

What can I say? After a year we got married and here it is 29 years later. He still takes care of me in the way only a husband can take care of a wife. With loving, caring, and sometimes even crying together. I still care for him as only a wife can. I listen to him speak. We laugh together. Sharing a sunset, or even a simple meal is still pleasurable to us. We tolerate his dementia, and we tolerate my physical and emotional problems. We have to keep them in their place while we go on enjoying the love and respect we have always had for each other.

It truly is a sad thing to watch your loved one decline in their disease. It’s a disease that robs them of the things they enjoy doing. Their memory goes in the end as it becomes Alzheimer’s, but up to that point, it’s their skills that decline one after another. Those diseases are very sad because you say goodbye to them more than once. I said goodbye to my husband many times. It got so at the end of his life, I couldn’t say goodbye to him one more time.

(My Husband died on Dec 7, 2017)