Many mornings I ask Cindy if she slept OK. Even when I know she hasn’t she will answer with a cheerful “yes.” On March 10, 2017, for the very first time, she answered “no.” As far as I could tell she slept no less or differently than other nights, her reply had more to do with her morning mood than her nightly rest.
I’m not happy with that particular “first;” there has been another one recently that leaves more of a bittersweet impression. We spend a huge amount of time as couch potatoes these days. A huge amount. With concern for Cindy’s inactivity I get her up periodically to “dance,” or even just to hug. I experienced another first recently when, once Cindy was in my arms, she softly said: “Hold me.”
Not even when Cindy was well did she ask to be held, though I did plenty of holding. Expedition Women don’t ask for that type of thing. Why, then, was she asking to be held now for the first time?
The most logical answer would be to compensate for her lack of balance. At this point her lack of strength may also prevent Cindy from being able to stand on her own. “Hold me” may be a practical request by a practical woman.
As I reflect on this new first Cindy rubs her nose on my chest. Most likely her nose itches, which sometimes prompts from me the comment: “Are you about to kiss a fool?” This time I grab my most used response from my bag of old jokes: “Gross! Are you wiping your snots on me again!?” Cindy laughs since everyone knows, from our kids to anyone who has met us for more than a few minutes, that I’m the disgusting one in this relationship …. though I’ve always considered that peeing “Cindy” in the snow was a romantic gesture.
We find comfort in our dancing hugs, her laughs and my old jokes. I juxtapose this with the other recent first and I wonder if “Hold me” is a nostalgic request. We are amidst the end game of dementia now. Perhaps Cindy senses that somewhere in the recesses of her mind and desires to hold onto these moments of holding. Or maybe I’m just projecting. Getting her up for hugs and “dancing” is a practical caregiving chore, but each hug also is very much a nostalgic, bittersweet one for me theses days.
There is yet one more possible interpretation for Cindy’s first “Hold me.” I don’t think I’m spilling the beans if I confess there has not been romance between us for a few years now. Yes, according to their comments many people view our final journey together as one long, romantic story, but something has been missing for years if you get my drift.
Of course, Cindy has been incapable of “romance” in that way for those years. Yet I would like to think that she misses it in her own way, just as I have, even if she no longer can remember precisely what she is missing. So it is that as we do our slow dance hug together I choose to think of “Hold me” as neither a practical nor a nostalgic plea, but as a romantic one, closing my eyes and doing the remembering for both of us.
Grreat work.