Hers was a gentle soul. Sensitive to what people did and said, with astute intuition into others’ emotional nuances.
She told me once, “It’s not the name that matters; it’s the smile and the face.”
We had the privilege of meeting her when she was living in a well-appointed independent living facility. Like most people experiencing dementia, she was having a hard time integrating and getting involved. Because, like many of the people living in independent living facilities, her cognitive abilities were changing.
This meant that the lovely activity calendar had little meaning…because if you have a hard time remembering which day is Tuesday, then the flower arranging class on Tuesdays at 3:00 is not something your brain will be able to hang onto. And if your language abilities are changing, and you are having a hard time maintaining your attention while talking with someone, and a hard time remembering someone’s name, then conversation becomes embarrassing, and unsuccessful, and not many people know how to be patient enough to have a nice conversation still.
Like most people experiencing dementia, the reality of changing abilities meant that she needed a companion; someone who understood what abilities she was keeping and what abilities she was losing. Someone who understood how to meet her emotional needs, because her emotional needs had not gone away; she just was losing the ability to meet her emotional needs for herself. She needed someone who knew how to make her changing cognitive abilities of little consequence.
We were privileged to bring that to her, while supporting her family as they made decisions about her future and her care. And then, we had the privilege of coaching her family in how to bring her the most comfort when her body and spirit were letting us know that they were ready to wind down this life.
Her son told me that her passing today could not have been more peaceful. She deserved that…peace and comfort. Her gentle soul is at rest.
