Beautiful, heartbreaking, and touching. Alzheimer's is a cruel and terrifying disease. But this essay is clearly about love. I don't think I've read something that captures what it's like to be in love with your soul mate so perfectly. Blessings to you and your beautiful wife, sir. I'm glad she has you.
I can see why this story won the senior essay contest. It’s a tear-jerker with so much compassion and love. In a few weeks, I’ll be 80, and my wife and I continue to have a wonderful life together. I don’t know what I would do without her.
Looking at our cultural landscape, I think we all know most of us are not alright. We are lonely, confused, dissociated, and addicted to many things, not least media.
This is a complex problem, and one good answer is publicly sharing unpleasant but real emotions in public, not as an exhibition, or even for a purpose, but for no other reason than that we feel them.
The subterranean currents all around us often go unseen, I think, because no one names them, no one says "this is what I see", thereby--in far too many cases--enabling others to see them, and to feel them, too.
This is a very sad essay. Growing old is sad. Looking at the inevitability of decay and loss and death is difficult. But it is our human task. No amount of TV, or "experiences" or whatever passes for any of us as healthful seeming distractions can postpone all that forever.
And I really think if we accept all this, accept our experience as it is, in the moments it happens, there is something beautiful there that cannot be had any other way.
There is always a ripping of some sort that happens in me when I write things like this, but I hope to always keep doing it.
This beautiful essay resonated with me. My wife of 30 years was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease slightly more than a year ago. A national-class athlete in her youth, she has always been an energetic whirlwind. She started her own successful accounting firm, raised two wonderful sons, and kept the family on an even keel when my job kept me away from home more than both of us wanted. She learned about, adapted to, and pushed back against her disease with her characteristic rigor. Age has diminished our looks and our vitality. Our joy and sadness have tempered our souls. However, the passage of time and our many experiences, including the Parkinson's, has grown our love.
Beautiful story, lovingly written. My wife and I had a similar experience during her 18-year battle with multiple sclerosis. Congratulations on the prize and on lives so well lived!
They told me as my husband lay dying in a nursing home that the hearing is the last to go. I would sit with him as he lay in a comatose state, telling him over and over how much I loved him, and what a great life he provided for us. He never responded, and my unanswered question was whether or not he comprehended what I said.
Beautiful essay. Everyone I knew who had this terrible disease had moments when they knew they were slipping away and were unable to halt the loss of dignity. Deborah is beyond lucky to have the author as her husband and caretaker. So many don’t have such an amazing partner.
My wife and I moved to a 55+ “active lifestyle” community three years ago. Like most who moved here we did it anticipating an active social life in our retirement. We have found that but we have also found many neighbors coping with grace with the inevitable realities of aging. Many avoid communities like this for that reason. Our culture would prefer to hide the aging, try to make it go away. What I’ve been privileged to witness is the challenges of aging molding people into the best versions of themselves. Wisdom and character can’t be taught at Harvard and is in short supply in congress but you’ll find it in abundance in Sun City. Many blessings in the New Year.
A dear friend is suffering through the same grief as Michael. To lose a loved one before they are gone must be among the hardest of torments. (Although, somewhat mercifully, it remains a disease mostly of the aged. Because to lose a child would be the most searing loss of all.) Nevertheless, I read this less as a tale of loss but more as a beautiful love story. Michael's life was completed by Deborah. They were inordinately fortunate to have found each other. The life they shared, the family they created, the moments they shared is a joy that endures.
We all thought it was Lyme disease but, after an exhausting litany of tests crisscrossing the nation, out popped; early-onset Alzheimers, the long goodbye.
She was a published writer, a mother of three, and a loving wife.
Having symptoms stronger each day now than an incoming tide, I miss her like sea-sand misses the warmth of the sun.
This story brought back poignant memories of John Robertson McQuilken (link below) who resigned from his post as President of Columbia Bible College to look after his wife, Muriel, who’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Like McQuilken’s story, this essay of love filled me with renewed hope in the human condition. Thank you, Michael, for writing this essay which demonstrates both the human and the divine at work in you.
I have lost a grandmother, an aunt, and an uncle to this disease. It is horrible in two ways; one is that you lose the person you love twice. First, when that person inside goes, then second, when the body finally dies. I loved reading how Michael kept to his vows and loved his wife to the end as he coped with the ravages of the disease. Loving a spouse in good times is easy, but he showed his love when it was hard.
One thing I find wrong with our modern politics is the endless search for perfection, the goal to rid our world of things that keep us from living into our nineties with little or no hardship. If you ask a person last century to live life to nearly 70 with peace and prosperity and explain the marvels of modern technology, they would all leap at the opportunity. Life in the past was full of pain, fear, and loss on a continual basis. We progress each year, and modern science and technology take more pain and suffering off the table. There are still a few more to tackle, as this article painfully shares, but I am glad to live in a world of progress and not perfection.
Michael’s essay registered powerfully with me. My wife, a career social worker who specialized in geriatric and memory care, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in April 2021. Our lives have changed, while our love has grown stronger. We have the love and support of our three children and three (soon four) grandchildren, a bevy of relatives and friends who brighten our lives, and dedicated people at our senior center and day activity center. Alzheimer’s is a tragic disease; but for us it has afforded the precious chance to be single-minded lovers again. Just think: young lovers, after all these years! So for us, the disease has been not only a tragedy but a miracle.
A broader note. Since Sharon Begley’s death in 2021, the institutional concentration on amyloid research and drug production has lacked a fierce and relentless critic. It needs one, and badly. Where is today’s version of Begley’s trenchant 2019 broadside , where she decried the elevation of dogma over open scientific examination of causes and potential cures?
Living next door is an elderly man whose wife also has dementia. Although we don’t visit often, I’m always struck by the patient and loving kindness he showers on her with every word and gesture. I’m reminded of the man who visited his wife every day in the assisted living residence even though she didn’t know who he was. “She may not know who I am, but I know who she is”, he would explain. Thank God for these role models of humane and loving concern for shining a light on the pathway of compassion, permitting one to live in peaceful serenity with the inevitable consequences of loss.
Beautiful, heartbreaking, and touching. Alzheimer's is a cruel and terrifying disease. But this essay is clearly about love. I don't think I've read something that captures what it's like to be in love with your soul mate so perfectly. Blessings to you and your beautiful wife, sir. I'm glad she has you.
I can see why this story won the senior essay contest. It’s a tear-jerker with so much compassion and love. In a few weeks, I’ll be 80, and my wife and I continue to have a wonderful life together. I don’t know what I would do without her.
Looking at our cultural landscape, I think we all know most of us are not alright. We are lonely, confused, dissociated, and addicted to many things, not least media.
This is a complex problem, and one good answer is publicly sharing unpleasant but real emotions in public, not as an exhibition, or even for a purpose, but for no other reason than that we feel them.
The subterranean currents all around us often go unseen, I think, because no one names them, no one says "this is what I see", thereby--in far too many cases--enabling others to see them, and to feel them, too.
This is a very sad essay. Growing old is sad. Looking at the inevitability of decay and loss and death is difficult. But it is our human task. No amount of TV, or "experiences" or whatever passes for any of us as healthful seeming distractions can postpone all that forever.
And I really think if we accept all this, accept our experience as it is, in the moments it happens, there is something beautiful there that cannot be had any other way.
There is always a ripping of some sort that happens in me when I write things like this, but I hope to always keep doing it.
This beautiful essay resonated with me. My wife of 30 years was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease slightly more than a year ago. A national-class athlete in her youth, she has always been an energetic whirlwind. She started her own successful accounting firm, raised two wonderful sons, and kept the family on an even keel when my job kept me away from home more than both of us wanted. She learned about, adapted to, and pushed back against her disease with her characteristic rigor. Age has diminished our looks and our vitality. Our joy and sadness have tempered our souls. However, the passage of time and our many experiences, including the Parkinson's, has grown our love.
Beautiful story, lovingly written. My wife and I had a similar experience during her 18-year battle with multiple sclerosis. Congratulations on the prize and on lives so well lived!
They told me as my husband lay dying in a nursing home that the hearing is the last to go. I would sit with him as he lay in a comatose state, telling him over and over how much I loved him, and what a great life he provided for us. He never responded, and my unanswered question was whether or not he comprehended what I said.
Beautiful essay. Everyone I knew who had this terrible disease had moments when they knew they were slipping away and were unable to halt the loss of dignity. Deborah is beyond lucky to have the author as her husband and caretaker. So many don’t have such an amazing partner.
"I search for love and connection in small ways because a moment of connection is to be alive." Profound. Great article. Thank you!
My wife and I moved to a 55+ “active lifestyle” community three years ago. Like most who moved here we did it anticipating an active social life in our retirement. We have found that but we have also found many neighbors coping with grace with the inevitable realities of aging. Many avoid communities like this for that reason. Our culture would prefer to hide the aging, try to make it go away. What I’ve been privileged to witness is the challenges of aging molding people into the best versions of themselves. Wisdom and character can’t be taught at Harvard and is in short supply in congress but you’ll find it in abundance in Sun City. Many blessings in the New Year.
A dear friend is suffering through the same grief as Michael. To lose a loved one before they are gone must be among the hardest of torments. (Although, somewhat mercifully, it remains a disease mostly of the aged. Because to lose a child would be the most searing loss of all.) Nevertheless, I read this less as a tale of loss but more as a beautiful love story. Michael's life was completed by Deborah. They were inordinately fortunate to have found each other. The life they shared, the family they created, the moments they shared is a joy that endures.
My sister, 59, has just been diagnosed.
We all thought it was Lyme disease but, after an exhausting litany of tests crisscrossing the nation, out popped; early-onset Alzheimers, the long goodbye.
She was a published writer, a mother of three, and a loving wife.
Having symptoms stronger each day now than an incoming tide, I miss her like sea-sand misses the warmth of the sun.
This story brought back poignant memories of John Robertson McQuilken (link below) who resigned from his post as President of Columbia Bible College to look after his wife, Muriel, who’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. Like McQuilken’s story, this essay of love filled me with renewed hope in the human condition. Thank you, Michael, for writing this essay which demonstrates both the human and the divine at work in you.
A deservedly winning essay if ever there was one.
https://youtu.be/vG95dJXNIDU?si=iE4KVybfBy92GfLG
I have lost a grandmother, an aunt, and an uncle to this disease. It is horrible in two ways; one is that you lose the person you love twice. First, when that person inside goes, then second, when the body finally dies. I loved reading how Michael kept to his vows and loved his wife to the end as he coped with the ravages of the disease. Loving a spouse in good times is easy, but he showed his love when it was hard.
One thing I find wrong with our modern politics is the endless search for perfection, the goal to rid our world of things that keep us from living into our nineties with little or no hardship. If you ask a person last century to live life to nearly 70 with peace and prosperity and explain the marvels of modern technology, they would all leap at the opportunity. Life in the past was full of pain, fear, and loss on a continual basis. We progress each year, and modern science and technology take more pain and suffering off the table. There are still a few more to tackle, as this article painfully shares, but I am glad to live in a world of progress and not perfection.
Michael’s essay registered powerfully with me. My wife, a career social worker who specialized in geriatric and memory care, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in April 2021. Our lives have changed, while our love has grown stronger. We have the love and support of our three children and three (soon four) grandchildren, a bevy of relatives and friends who brighten our lives, and dedicated people at our senior center and day activity center. Alzheimer’s is a tragic disease; but for us it has afforded the precious chance to be single-minded lovers again. Just think: young lovers, after all these years! So for us, the disease has been not only a tragedy but a miracle.
A broader note. Since Sharon Begley’s death in 2021, the institutional concentration on amyloid research and drug production has lacked a fierce and relentless critic. It needs one, and badly. Where is today’s version of Begley’s trenchant 2019 broadside , where she decried the elevation of dogma over open scientific examination of causes and potential cures?
https:www.statnews.com/2019/06/25/alzheimers-cabal-thwarted-progress-toward-cure/
Living next door is an elderly man whose wife also has dementia. Although we don’t visit often, I’m always struck by the patient and loving kindness he showers on her with every word and gesture. I’m reminded of the man who visited his wife every day in the assisted living residence even though she didn’t know who he was. “She may not know who I am, but I know who she is”, he would explain. Thank God for these role models of humane and loving concern for shining a light on the pathway of compassion, permitting one to live in peaceful serenity with the inevitable consequences of loss.
Just lovely in its sadness.