I’ve just arrived back home in Melbourne, Victoria, after a few days in Queensland visiting and enjoying family. The weather was warm and pleasant, maybe a bit windy at times, but hardly a cloud in the sky, and my new and only great-granddaughter is a most beautiful child, calm and placid like her parents! I was lucky with the timing of my visit and was able to come home again because some more cases of this wretched coronavirus required our Victorian government to re-impose a lockdown whilst I was away. It was good that I travelled when I did, as no other Australian state would ‘let me in’ at this present time!

The weather in Melbourne, as I write this in the third day of winter, is also fine and warmish with no wind and a clear blue sky, although the nights are colder, just as they were in mid-coast Queensland last week. Later, in our winter here it will rain, and we’ll have lots of grey days. Just like our lives, those days will happen whether we like it or not, and we will be glad that life also includes several seasons even if, every so often, they will be as muddled as the local weather pattern!

I am often feeling ‘down in the dumps’, sad and missing my soul mate, and have to constantly remind myself that such feelings are regenerative of themselves and serve no purpose. That kind of melancholic introspection is so destructive of my life, and even worse when it makes me such poor company to others. Not that I am seeing ‘others’ at present in this lockdown! One strategy I use to regain some positive thoughts is to stop, take a breath and say a silent prayer – a prayer that God will help me focus on the here and now and remember that Dorothy has shaped me to be what I am, to give thanks for the way she kept me grounded and to look out for ways to help people and to never speak ill of anyone. Dorothy was always practical, always focussed on others, never just on herself. Those are her qualities (and many more), and they help me cope with life without her physical presence.

Doom and gloom had no place in Dorothy’s life, and that’s a legacy I will try to emulate and continue. Those of my readers who’ve lost a loved one (and that’s all of you, I know) will be smiling and hopefully agreeing that in the wintertime of our lives we can look forward to sunshine again even though it may not happen when we wish it! The weather often changes and, just as night follows day, we need to allow ourselves to accept the seasonality of our lives, to accept it and “find some happiness every day and do no harm to others on the way”. Fine sentiments. Now let me see if I can find that elusive sunshine next time it rains! The sun IS shining every day, somewhere. We just need to know that, and keep looking out for it, will you join me?

Over the past three years when Dorothy was in care I visited regularly and as a result, built up a relationship with many of the staff and with some other residents in the other parts of the home, some of whom we had known in earlier times.

That made it easier to continue visiting the care home after Dorothy’s death so that I could maintain those friendships and to continue something I had started a few weeks ago: lessons on how to play and enjoy Scrabble! When one of my friends in the home asked me to teach a small group, I was somewhat incredulous that there could be anyone who’d never played, but I readily agreed to help. At the trial “lesson” we had such a good time that it was a no-brainer that we should continue. The number of residents who like to play varies from three to six at each visit which means that sometimes I just sit-in as advisor, prompter and coach! I have discovered that many of the residents have few visitors and an interactive and social game like Scrabble is beneficial to them and also to me.

The continuing sessions have been a great antidote for my melancholia and a useful way to focus and socialise in a constructive way. We start with a coffee at ten a.m. and play through to midday on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. At first, it took that long to play one game but now we easily manage two games before lunch. Purists would be abhorred at our slow style: no scoring, non-competitive, and with me as the sole adjudicator if some obscure word is tried! The game generates lots of laughs and conversation as we muddle our way through, and we all benefit from that happy time together.

In a few days I will need to pause the Scrabble for a week as I am booked for an exciting visit to Queensland to visit the newest addition to our family, our first Great-Grandchild, the dear little Miranda. Her grandparents also live in Queensland and they have arranged and organised my excursion to meet Miranda and her proud parents, so I will be flying away next week for a cuddle or two! Of course, I am sad that Dorothy can’t share this joy, but I know she would be as tickled-pink as I am and I will go “in loco (grandi) parentus” for her to see this brand-new baby girl and share the happiness she is bringing to our extended family.

A week in sunny Queensland at this time of the year is always a welcome project, but I have to say we have had some stunning weather here in our Melbourne Autumn (Fall). Those sunny, mild days and cold nights will, however, soon give way to Winter which can be cold and wet here.

 Just as in life, we all know there will be unpleasant and sad times in our ‘winter’ years but, thank God, there will be times ahead when the sun will shine again, and those other three seasons will take their turn and, just as surely, we will all find our own ways to cope with them and with life’s seasonality.

When we said our marriage vows, nearly sixty-three years ago, the concept of a lifetime seemed so far away. Yet in hindsight, it seems like yesterday! Now, with these notes, I need to tell you that my dear wife Dorothy has passed away. The brutal reality of her death is sharp, but the process really began some years ago when Alzheimer’s beckoned and we started the long road, as many others have and still do. I have actually missed Dorothy’s total presence for some years, even as I continued to be by her side as we travelled, and even though we saw the road ahead differently. I am sad, but through all those years we both remained true to the vow: “Do you promise to love and cherish her, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?”. I do.

I will continue to write a few lines every so often, as I continue this journey, alone now, but as always with the love of our friends and family around me and with a heart full of prayer and thanksgiving. Sometimes it’s hard to recognise all the good aspects of life – we can be side-tracked by only seeing the problems. Certainly, I’m as guilty as anyone for not always acknowledging all the positive and good parts of our lives. Yesterday, our daughter sent me an encouraging email which quoted some words from ‘Love and Suffering’ by Andrea Ortuno about how we can handle suffering. After reading that, I reaffirmed my own determination to “Remember the past but not live in it“. The Bible of course, is rich in words of comfort and support, far too many to quote here, but just one will serve the purpose at present: “I thank my God in all my remembrance of you” – Philippians 1:3. The coming days will test my resolve in lots of ways, just as it has and will for everyone who has grieved for a loved person – isn’t that everyone? I pray that, in this time of mourning I will accept Dorothy’s death as an inevitable part of the spectrum of life, and that it will deepen my love of all whose lives I touch along the rest of my way ……

I knew, if we could live long enough, there was a good chance Dorothy and I could become Great-Grandparents. As usual, I was right! Yes, we have reached that happy occasion with the recent birth of Miranda and, as the photos have revealed, she is a little beauty. Even though she is domiciled interstate, the wonders of modern technology have disclosed several photos that prove that she and her mum are beautiful and doing just fine.

It is sad that my wife, Dorothy, can’t rejoice with me in this auspicious event, even though I have shown her the photos and explained that Miranda was 7lbs at birth (don’t ask me why we still disclose babies’ weights in pounds not grams!). Maybe it’s an optical illusion, but is there a little tinge of red hair on her bonnie wee head? It was a poignant time for me as I shared this special news with Dorothy understanding that she was not able to respond as she would have seven or eight years ago; she would have been ecstatic. “Show and tell” is the best I could do.

I went on to reminisce with Dorothy, in a one-way discussion, about the birth of Miranda’s grandfather, who arrived with his twin brother and surprised and delighted both of us, all those (undisclosed) years ago. It seems inconceivable (no pun intended) that we did not know until after the first twin was born that she had another baby tucked away in that fluid-enlarged space. No scans in those days, and I had to remain waiting in a public phone box to hear the next instalment! New life is, almost always, a time for celebration although our family experienced sad times some years ago when one of our sons and his wife lost two children, our first grandsons, with a resultant legacy of grief. But new birth is a wondrous and exciting time for most parents, and in this case, our hearts are full of joy and thankfulness as we contemplate the way this tiny bundle will grow and keep adding happiness for years to come to the parents as well as to the uncles, aunts, in-laws and outlaws and all those remaining up the food chain (so to speak).

Life is like that: a mix of emotions of all kinds, past and present, and I have to keep reminding myself that it’s really only the here and now that matters. That confirms how vital it is to grow and enhance our current relationships – because they are the ones that will be part of our future memories! So, I try to ‘make the moment matter’ and that often takes every ounce of my mental energy when I am visiting Dorothy. Squeezing the best out of every moment sometimes leaves me incredibly tired and, for that reason, I am not visiting every day now. It is so easy for me to be overwhelmed by the constant companion of melancholia which, for most separated couples, can be so debilitating. My coping mechanism is to walk or ride a bicycle, but of late, I am having a lot of lower-back pain which is restricting my physical activity. The doctor agrees it could be just muscle strain or, at worst, sciatica, so I’m off to see a physiotherapist to try and regain my mobility.

Like many couples, Dorothy and I have spent most of the last seventy years learning about each other, making memories, and families that matter. It was in those precious earlier years that Dorothy’s life, her devotion, her beliefs, her management of home and family shaped our lives together and that of our children, and a good deal of that influence will filter down through generations. That’s awesome! Being a parent is one thing, now being a great-grandparent, well, that’s a whole new ball game. All part of the grand design, perhaps…..

It seems not possible that a whole year has elapsed, and I remember so little of it! Maybe that is a common feeling of lots of my readers. Perhaps its because we don’t want to remember, we just want to get on with our lives. It was a time of hardship and sadness for many people especially those who have been affected by coronavirus either directly or by having their work and income impacted. Regardless of how deeply we were personally affected it has touched our lives in many ways. My condolences are sincerely sent to those who have lost loved ones and whose lives have been irrevocably changed because of it. My prayer is that you will learn to transcend the sad times and be strengthened by them to start the healing. If we only remember the sad times of our lives it lessens our optimism for tomorrow and makes us dull company indeed!

The most dramatic effect that coronavirus had on me, apart from wearing a mask and staying home, was that it closed down visiting almost entirely at aged care facilities, including where my wife Dorothy lives in the special care wing along with a dozen or so other Alzheimer’s folk. That enforced disruption in the otherwise almost daily visiting has had a profound effect on my lifestyle and psyche and has caused me to re-evaluate my lifestyle. The resultant change in my routine seems to have caused a subtle change in my relationship with my wife and our children, and also with my neighbours and friends. Suddenly (or so it seemed) the days became longer and, definitely, the nights as well; I had time to for my mind to dwell on all sorts of things, and I became despondent and probably, depressed. Recognising what was happening to me, I resolved to find a way to break my melancholia and learn to adjust to a whole new approach to the rest of my life. Well, less dramatically I needed a ‘break’.

So, as soon as the coronavirus restrictions allowed, I took myself off the treadmill for a whole week for a ‘retreat’ to a timeshare cottage in rural Victoria, just an hour or so drive away, but in a bushland setting. It worked, to a degree. Even though it rained a good deal of the time I did manage to take a long walk each day and finished the week somewhat refreshed. But I have to say, the euphoria did not last very long, and I am back to a familiar lifestyle and regaining my usual non-vigour again. It doesn’t help, of course, to recognise that Dorothy is still responsive to my presence, but, perversely, not unduly affected when I give her a kiss and say, “I’m off now, see you again, soon”. As I drive back home and try to settle back into a routine, I still feel sad, and sort of disoriented. This morning I am playing Scrabble with a group at Dorothy’s care home, then I will spend some time with her and later, this evening, I am having a ‘Pizza Night’ with a few dozen other residents at this village where I live. That’s another time when being with some other folk does seem to change at least something, for a while…….

The month of March in Melbourne, even April, was always a favoured time for our family holidays. The heat of summer, if any, has mostly passed and the weather hasn’t quite moved on to the deeper cold and wetness that comes later on. So, while the weather and coronavirus restrictions allow, I recently decided to take a week’s break. For two reasons: the first is that I just felt ‘jaded’ – that overwhelming tiredness that persists, even after sleep. The second is that I needed to use our timeshare week before it is forfeited after June 30th! So, I am starting this narrative, here at home, on the day before I set off for my ‘retreat’ – a week in a bushland setting in a nearby country Victorian town. To be continued……..

……OK, here I am, back home again, one week later, considerably refreshed. It rained a good deal of the time but with enough breaks for me to go walking each day and for a few short drives to break the monotony of sitting and reading – neither of which are not (yet!) my favourite pastimes. It was a restful, relaxed, and pleasant time for both me and for my companion and my phone calls assured me that Dorothy remained settled.

But, during that time I was saddened by a phone call from one of our sons to tell me about his eldest daughter, a vivacious and active young practising nurse who also lectures in nursing at a local University. Unexpectedly, she has been deeply affected by a rare and serious health disorder for which there is no cure and can only be managed with daily medication for life. She lives at a nearby country town with her loving and caring partner and with her happy disposition and a joy of life, I know she will cope with this affliction better than anyone I can think of. Our son and daughter-in-law (her parents) live not far away from them and will also be available to continue with their love and support, and I am confident our grand-daughter will quickly re-learn to live life to the full. Go girl!

And for me it’s back to reality, too. On return yesterday I visited Dorothy and we had a happy time of reunion as though I hadn’t been away. Now, thinking about our wonderful extended family, my next thoughts are for another granddaughter who is expecting our very first great-grandchild in a matter of days. Her father, our son, has just retired from his working life and with his wife are planning to tour Australia with their caravan…. I guess some babysitting might also be on the horizon before that!

So, you will understand why my prayers are centred not just on Dorothy, but also on our grandchildren, especially those two I have mentioned above, and all those people suffering adversities and particularly those whose lives have been disrupted by the recent flooding rainfalls; then there’s the thanks for all God’s blessings I have, with wonderful family and friends.

Are we ready for winter? Well, as ready as anyone can be, as we travel together through this year’s autumn, and all our other seasons of life.

It’s true, isn’t it, that grey skies can heighten melancholia. I had decided to take a day off from visiting Dorothy and, instead, go for a long walk (well, two or three kilometres) but when the day dawned rainy and miserable- well, it isn’t going to happen! Perhaps, after I finish penning this note, I will cover-up and brave the slight wetness – it is, otherwise, a pleasant temperature.

Yesterday the weather was really lovely, and I was able to take Dorothy for a small walk in a nearby park together, I must say, with many others, but that didn’t diminish the joy of walking hand-in-hand among the gum trees. Finding a car parking spot was difficult, but it was so good to see the number of families and couples able to be out and about, not just at shopping centres but, even better, to see them enjoying the ambience of a natural environment on such a fine day.

My lifestyle now often slips back into an attitude and a mindset that is still trying to accept that it’s the ‘now’ that’s important. Yesteryear, I keep telling myself, with its excitement and sadness has gone. Yet the memories of that emotional journey, started more than sixty-five years ago with Dorothy, linger on, and tend to colour everything in my current activities. Those remembrances are bittersweet and sometimes overshadow everything I do or say, even now, and always seem worse on days like this as the sky scowls down on my dark and muddled thoughts.

But some weeks ago, recognising that the mental clouds would also become darker if I didn’t take remedial action, I booked a week at our two-bedroom with separate bathrooms, timeshare retreat in country Victoria, just over an hour’s easy drive from here. Discussing it at the time with a neighbour, I invited her to visit me whilst there and remarkably she agreed and has kindly offered to be a companion at arm’s length for the whole week. It will be strange, and we are both more than just a little apprehensive about how it will work out. Of course, I have explained the journey with our children, friends, even our neighbours and, I am relieved to say, they have all unequivocally endorsed it. It does still disturb me that not only will I not see my dear Dorothy for a whole week (for the second time in over two years) but I will be in the company of another lady for some of that time, a person I have known for several years and we both acknowledge our history and respect our stories.

It’s possible my readers will not understand my need to have a break, or may form some other, different points of view, but those who know me can be confident, despite the ‘whether or not’, or the weather, it might be a time of healing for me as I move along the dementia road, always with Dorothy, metaphorically, beside me.    

Gone are the days when Dorothy and I would plan ahead, together, for our next shared adventure, be it home and family related or, in later years, a wider travel experience. Gone, too, are the times when we could share remembrances of those times – all those shared years, together.

Dorothy’s ability to recall slid silently away some years ago and now totally eludes her, but those earlier times shaped both of us in our behaviour and attitude to others, and still does, now in our dramatically different lives. But that doesn’t preclude my solitary recall of those times, nor does it diminish their importance, it simply means I can’t re-share them with Dorothy, even though she’s still with me, but apart. And they are no less real, I can still relish and savour those earlier together times.

We each move on in our lives in our own way, and with every breath we try to be masters of our thoughts, our actions, and reactions. What we do and say is who we are and affects everyone we encounter – it’s what makes us unique and, to varying degrees, precious to each other. The way I personally respond to the swings and roundabouts of life is conditioned by all those earlier shared experiences, not only with Dorothy, but with each and all of our family and friends, those we worked with and, in our case, prayed with. That journey with its ups and downs was, and still is, often burdened with the baggage of past mistakes, of wrong decisions, of attitudes, behaviours, or of things done or not done.

Dorothy’s Alzheimer’s journey is not encumbered by that ‘previous life’ load, she is free to feel only the present and to savour, or otherwise, each moment just as it is. Such acceptance of ‘now’ should help me to savour how precious this current time can be, but reality confirms that not every moment is joyful, especially for those of us who are carers or separated from our loved ‘other half’.

To help retain my sanity I have learnt to take some time out, to stop and grab hold of my swirling stupid mind, to reflect quietly and to pray to God and to hold on to my Christian belief of a caring deity. Insecure, imperfect, and uncertain as I am, it remains an absolutely essential, positive, and precious activity which provides me with solace and strength to face the next moments, the next day. And my experience of adversity is as nothing compared to the afflictions of so many others, now exacerbated by the current, awful consequences of the coronavirus.

So, does my belief help me, and Dorothy? Yes, it does. Even when I think, like so many others before me, “Why do bad things happen to good people?”. The enigma of humankind! Perhaps that’s answered in part by recognising that my belief engenders grace which empowers people to respond with care and service, known as love; and I know, “God is Love”, and that love opens doors, never slams them shut….

I don’t mean “You’re Grounded!”, nor do I mean I’ve been “ground-down”. I simply mean standing with my feet flat on the ground, upright and still moving, grounded in my faith and in reality. Last weekend I was able to spend a night away with our daughter and family at their ‘bush retreat’ in country Victoria, a pleasant and welcome time of rest and gentle walks, with no meals to prepare. The business of staying upright and aware does require discipline and more than a night away, though! In everyday life, just convincing myself to get out of bed is not always easy. These days I seem to be tired all the time (perhaps lethargic would be a better description) and it’s often been hard to find motivation for most things so, just maybe, a New Year resolution was needed, and I began to think about it…..

…..But I got a wake-up call last week when Dorothy’s care home phoned to say she was off to hospital in an ambulance after a fall. In her accommodation, the bathroom floor is the only hard surface and, of course, that’s where she fell, luckily with only extensive bruising and a very small head wound. Somewhat still in a daze, I sat by her bedside in casualty for the best part of a day and a night and pondered the way our lives were travelling. Even the tiny head laceration resulted in a prodigious amount of bloodied hair and, as I sat there, I marvelled at our privileged lives: here we were with Dorothy getting the best possible treatment in a modern, properly equipped emergency wing of a local hospital, staffed by efficient trained people and yet in the throes of the coronavirus epidemic. Wow!

After a period of rest and observation in hospital we were soon back at her care home; she to recuperate with an enhanced sleep, and me back home for the same reason! A day later and Dorothy was strongly back on her feet, quite unperturbed, and I was back to my visiting and taking her walking the internal corridors of care and even beyond to a local park to enjoy the freedom of a walk among the trees. Within the care home’s stringent and careful protocols, we were able to escape to enjoy some time together outdoors, watching the ducks on the lake, the children on play equipment and the birds and the trees.

I am amazed that Dorothy seems not to feel pain, she has bounced back with only bruises and a small plaster on her head. Me, I’d be milking it for weeks – maybe I am too soft – but I think I’d be miserable and whingeing, whereas she is full of smiles and relaxed! It is of interest to see the range of infirmity of the dozen or so other residents in Dorothy’s wing of the home where most seem to be less mobile than Dorothy, some even wheelchair bound. But the staff do encourage the group with physical as well as mental stimulation, tasks not easy with such a diversity of age, gender, and ability. The activities are planned, organised and mostly well-staffed, although recent staff reductions are beginning to concern me, especially now as I see the decrease in physical and mental abilities of this cohort demand more and closer attention.

So, staying grounded means a lot for Dorothy, and also for me and other partners like me. It is easy for me to withdraw, to be introspective and inactive, mentally, and physically. I don’t have answers, but I do realise it’s important for me to retain and develop interests outside the care home, but also inside, where at the request of my friend Jim and his wife Joy, I recently held a few short “encouragement classes” for some non-Alzheimer’s folk to play Scrabble, and we all had a happy time together.

There you have it, my New Year resolution: keep upright, stay grounded, but laid back (not laid down!).

When driving along the road of life, I tell myself to keep my hands on the wheel because, although there are signposts, I am constantly distracted and sometimes miss the signs and could lose control. That’s the advice we readily accept when driving a car, but that concept of self-control equally applies to a life journey, too. It takes some effort, at times (for me, anyway) to remain focussed on the positive aspects of that journey. It’s so easy to avoid and neglect the core requirements of a balanced life, whatever that is! Fortunately, being creatures of habit, and comparatively healthy we are normally able to cope with the rigours of modern life, even in these coronavirus times.

And that’s despite the myriad of things which impinge on our minds and constantly influence our personal responses at every moment. Those of us without Alzheimer’s symptoms have our own distinctive, individual, idiosyncrasies which determine our responses to each ‘now’. We are (mostly!) able to instantly assess the circumstance of the moment and decide how to react, regardless of how infinitely varied and complex that process may be.

In those moments of decision, we instinctively adjust our thinking and, despite distractions, attitudes actions and beliefs, automatically and rapidly make conclusions and take actions. In the blink of an eye, we can take account of our current location, our environment, the degree of our control of the circumstances and its effect on others – and they are just some of the aspects evaluated. In that ‘moment’, we will have also considered some alternatives, the effects on others and the permanency or temporary nature of our choices. That magic of individual choice is enhanced or debased on how we are feeling at the time, too!

As well, we are often being affected by environmental matters, especially those we can’t understand or change, and perhaps fearful of losing control, of being overwhelmed by a person or people around us, of losing focus, of forgetting where we are or, worse, where we’re going. And of course, we may feel tired or can’t be bothered, or just be unaccountably disturbed and not know why, or even forget how the topic started!

At times, all of us can also feel thirsty or hungry or grubby, or out of sorts, perhaps regretting having not done the preparation before an ‘event’ or be short of cash or spend frivolously or be fixated on saving, or feel sad, worried, lonely, unloved, or inadequate; of being ‘put down’ in an encounter or embarrassed by a person with a ‘stronger’ or ‘unpleasant’ demeanour. And of course, who hasn’t forgotten someone’s name, or their partners, their jobs, their special interests?

Now imagine having none of those extensive thoughts, limits, or expectations, like my dear Dorothy. It is impossible. But writing this, by going though through those executive brain processes, has helped me get a tiny feel for the mind of an Alzheimer’s sufferer, a mind bereft of hardly any ability to analyse and respond appropriately. Dorothy’s mind seems to encounter blind corners, unexpected curves, rough roads, stops and detours, no roadmap, and not much fuel – what a journey! Now I’m not sure whether I was thinking of Dorothy, or me!