Dancing With Em
Emily doesn't have Alzheimer's anymore! That thought, after an initial spasm of grief when I learned my church friend Emily Gilkeson had passed away recently, cheered me up considerably. While there is no known cure as yet for the devastating disease that changed this dear, sweet, hardworking, caring woman into a very different person, at least she would no longer be struggling with all of the confusion, frustration and pain of that condition.
Emily was a matriarch of our church--my husband called her a "pillar" and indeed she was. She was probably one of the first to greet us over 32 years ago with the most inviting smile and sincere interest. But her journey these last few years has interested me in the wider cause of caring for those with Alzheimer's and the need for ongoing research.
By profession Em was a homemaker: creating a loving and inventive homelife for her lively family of two girls and two boys. In addition, she took theological training and served for awhile as a lay preacher in our denomination, as well as serving many terms as an ordained elder at our church, and on two pastoral search committees. In her prime she led worship with poise and grace and read poems and readings with expression and vitality. With others, she planned and orchestrated creative and hands-on church school "learning centers" and intergenerational classes. She mentored my youngest daughter (and many others) through confirmation classes.
She was an artist with a needle: the wedding dresses she embroidered for her daughters should be in a museum somewhere. For many years she and her friends and family held Christmas craft bazaars in her home where the items for sale were as artful as a juried craft show.
Em was our church "Clothes Closet" for many years--working tirelessly as "mission leader" every Wednesday morning to sort, organize and hang up the castoffs of thousands to give to the area's needy. When clients came to pick out their free clothing, Em would enthusiastically care for any child whose parents allowed her to, holding crying babies and talking baby talk so their moms could "shop" less disturbed. She felt such compassion for those of larger sizes looking for clothing that she frequently went to her sewing machine and whipped up larger-sized pants, dresses and tops to donate.
As with all people who've been around those with Alzheimer's, for years some of us struggled with the changes we noticed in the Em who had always been one of the driving forces of the church. My first clear signal that something must be wrong was when she could not conduct a business meeting with her usual organizational skills; I couldn't figure out what was wrong. She became confused and frustrated about simple instructions or conversations; everyone is forgetful as we age, but the changes of Alzheimer's go way beyond memory loss.
But most of all I remember her comforting me when I broke down with embarrassingly loud sobs when our pastor came to tell our small group that Em had indeed been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Em was still good enough at that point to hug me and tell me things were going to be ok. "It is just one of those things," she said. Her comforting me in my distress still makes me tear up. How could she be so accepting? So other-oriented?
I do grieve for all who suffer the terrible, terrible slow death of Alzheimer's, and especially encourage people to get involved with whatever local organizations offer respite care for family members, and for the ongoing research efforts to find cures or at least medication to help give patients the longest number of years with good minds. The struggle of coming to terms with the disease, and the havoc it plays on the relationships of family members, is huge.
We should not look at death from Alzheimer's as a failure: Alzheimer's was just one of those things that happens. Rather, we should always look to the life that went before: Em lived it to the fullest for as long as she was able, and made the rest of us better persons for having known her. We're sure she's dancing on those streets of whatever you imagine them to be. Again this year, I'm celebrating Easter with fresh thoughts of my friends and family who are now experiencing the resurrection reality for themselves.
Contributed by Melodie Davis
Emily doesn't have Alzheimer's anymore! That thought, after an initial spasm of grief when I learned my church friend Emily Gilkeson had passed away recently, cheered me up considerably. While there is no known cure as yet for the devastating disease that changed this dear, sweet, hardworking, caring woman into a very different person, at least she would no longer be struggling with all of the confusion, frustration and pain of that condition.
Emily was a matriarch of our church--my husband called her a "pillar" and indeed she was. She was probably one of the first to greet us over 32 years ago with the most inviting smile and sincere interest. But her journey these last few years has interested me in the wider cause of caring for those with Alzheimer's and the need for ongoing research.
By profession Em was a homemaker: creating a loving and inventive homelife for her lively family of two girls and two boys. In addition, she took theological training and served for awhile as a lay preacher in our denomination, as well as serving many terms as an ordained elder at our church, and on two pastoral search committees. In her prime she led worship with poise and grace and read poems and readings with expression and vitality. With others, she planned and orchestrated creative and hands-on church school "learning centers" and intergenerational classes. She mentored my youngest daughter (and many others) through confirmation classes.
She was an artist with a needle: the wedding dresses she embroidered for her daughters should be in a museum somewhere. For many years she and her friends and family held Christmas craft bazaars in her home where the items for sale were as artful as a juried craft show.
Em was our church "Clothes Closet" for many years--working tirelessly as "mission leader" every Wednesday morning to sort, organize and hang up the castoffs of thousands to give to the area's needy. When clients came to pick out their free clothing, Em would enthusiastically care for any child whose parents allowed her to, holding crying babies and talking baby talk so their moms could "shop" less disturbed. She felt such compassion for those of larger sizes looking for clothing that she frequently went to her sewing machine and whipped up larger-sized pants, dresses and tops to donate.
As with all people who've been around those with Alzheimer's, for years some of us struggled with the changes we noticed in the Em who had always been one of the driving forces of the church. My first clear signal that something must be wrong was when she could not conduct a business meeting with her usual organizational skills; I couldn't figure out what was wrong. She became confused and frustrated about simple instructions or conversations; everyone is forgetful as we age, but the changes of Alzheimer's go way beyond memory loss.
But most of all I remember her comforting me when I broke down with embarrassingly loud sobs when our pastor came to tell our small group that Em had indeed been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. Em was still good enough at that point to hug me and tell me things were going to be ok. "It is just one of those things," she said. Her comforting me in my distress still makes me tear up. How could she be so accepting? So other-oriented?
I do grieve for all who suffer the terrible, terrible slow death of Alzheimer's, and especially encourage people to get involved with whatever local organizations offer respite care for family members, and for the ongoing research efforts to find cures or at least medication to help give patients the longest number of years with good minds. The struggle of coming to terms with the disease, and the havoc it plays on the relationships of family members, is huge.
We should not look at death from Alzheimer's as a failure: Alzheimer's was just one of those things that happens. Rather, we should always look to the life that went before: Em lived it to the fullest for as long as she was able, and made the rest of us better persons for having known her. We're sure she's dancing on those streets of whatever you imagine them to be. Again this year, I'm celebrating Easter with fresh thoughts of my friends and family who are now experiencing the resurrection reality for themselves.
Contributed by Melodie Davis
Daily Smile:
"ORIGIN OF MANKIND"
A little girl asked her father, "How did the human race come about?"
The father answered, "God made Adam and Eve and they had children and so all mankind was made."
A little girl asked her father, "How did the human race come about?"
The father answered, "God made Adam and Eve and they had children and so all mankind was made."
Two days later she asks her mother the same question.
The mother answered, "Many years ago there were monkeys, and we developed from them."
The confused girl returns to her father and says: "Dad, how is it possible that you told me that the human race was created by God and Mom says we developed from monkeys?"
The Father answers, "That's simple, honey. I told you about the origin of my side of the family, and your mother told you about her side."
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