Caretaking Memories

In the busy task-oriented pace of my day working with elders, I encountered an unexpected gift. I stepped into the sunroom and noticed John sitting on the wicker love seat. He looked up and smiled at me. "You've picked a nice spot," I said, as I moved to the empty chair next to him. He had an old photo album in his lap, and I was curious. Time slowed as I sat down. He carefully opened the faded green front cover, embossed with his and his wife's name in gold, and began to talk haltingly about his wife. "She was younger than me by many years…four…no, three. We met in college." He was a widower and still somewhat surprised that his Mary had died first…"just went, while I sat next to her with my hand on her wrist." He took my wrist in his large hand. A moment passed, then he released my wrist to turn the page. I looked at the early color photos, vintage 1960s, and saw an All American family standing next to a swimming pool. There he was, very tall, in dark swim trunks and sporting black framed glasses and a crew cut. Next to him was his pretty wife, hair in a neat flip, a modest one piece swimsuit on her trim, petite figure. Three children stood in size order next to her: two girls and a boy, all tow heads and grinning at the camera. "Is this your family?" I asked. "Oh. I don't know. We had two girls and a boy…." He turned the page and there were photos of a large, brown, shingled house and various indoor shots of people gathered in the kitchen or living room or den. One photo showed Mary half turning toward the camera, a wide smile on her face. "We met in college. We were married a long time…forty or so years, I think. I can't believe how lucky I was that she loved me." No tears, just a wistful smile as he held onto a memory and gently closed the album.

This won't be the last time John shares his album or the narrative of his life and his beloved wife. But I'm his ally now against memory loss. I will speak to him these words he shared and in doing so, will breathe life into those fading memories if just for an instant, creating a flicker of happiness in his day.