It is hard to believe that nearly two years have passed since Debbie moved to Edgewater. I have become very comfortable with the ebb and flow of life there. Edgewater is in my backyard just a block away and I can see a glimpse of it from my back deck. The facility is about 18 years old and some major remodeling is in progress. A water fountain feature and an endless path of overlapping figure eights with nice landscaping was added. It is very nice and it was built with donated funds. As I look back over the last few months it is easy to notice Debbie’s continued cognitive decline. But at the same time the tragedy of her cognitive decline is offset by her being calmer and I dare say happier than she was even six months ago. Perhaps it's because she understands less about what she's lost or maybe we are doing a better job of taking care of her needs. Regardless, I'm grateful for her current happiness. At this stage, peace and comfort feel like victories. One unexpected source...
Another three months have passed in Debbie’s long goodbye journey. She has declined a little more, each decline a subtle milestone, but still she is able to join me for dinner every day. Recently, we met another couple here at Edgewater who are walking a path very much like ours. Sally is in memory care, and her husband John lives in independent living on campus. The four of us have begun to gather for dinner each evening. John and I often find ourselves lost in conversation, swapping stories from our varied life experiences and mulling over the latest news. There’s comfort in this camaraderie, and it’s nice to see how content Debbie and Sally are having us by their side and sharing the warmth at the table. Debbie’s world continues to shrink. She shows little interest in stepping outside, so we’ve adapted, taking short walks together inside the Edgewater complex. These loops become our shared moments that we both enjoy without many words being said. She is happiest when she is not requ...