Reflecting on Anniversaries with Hope for the Future

Earlier this week, I reflected on the 18th anniversary of my father’s passing. He died in 2001 on March 31. In 1993, on April 1 – April Fools’ Day – my mother succumbed to congestive heart failure. Of 365 days in a year, how is it that my parents died on two consecutive days (eight years apart)?

Growing up, I remember my father toying with my mother, “I’ll likely die eight years before you.” He must have read actuarial statistics that remained in his mind. He’s said this more than once. At times, he’d add that he would die 18 years earlier, since he was 10 years older. My mother often dismissed his observations. Sometimes, in a feisty retort, she’d say, “No, I’ll go first because you cause me so much stress.”

My father was 49 when I was born. I wasn’t ready to see either of my parents die.

The opposite happened. My mother predeceased my father by eight years.

Most of us have lived long enough to realize, life and love involve accepting loss. To survive, we learn to forge ahead as we manage the pain.

Weeks later, as I scanned the beautiful Mother’s Day cards at the store, my eyes welled up with tears. Such a fancy card with a perfect message to which I could add my own. My mother was gone. She would never read another card again.

My parents urged me to get on with the “important” things in life… as if their legacies were not as important.

This year marks the 20th Anniversary of Where’s my shoes? My Father’s Walk through Alzheimer’s. After writing leadership, communication, and career development books, this was my fifth book and my first memoir. It was difficult to write something so personal. Yet, support group members encouraged me. They put money behind their words. They encouraged me in 1997 with $2,000. That was just the beginning. I had to write this book!

In 1999, a hardcover edition of “Where’s my shoes?” the grammatically incorrect question my father asked was released to the world of family and professional caregivers caring for people with Alzheimer’s. Unexpectedly, it filled a void. Beyond this target audience however, the general population wanted nothing to do with it.

People feared talking about dementia. Having a book about Alzheimer’s in their midst might cause a family member to get the disease or irreversible damage to their reputations.

Despite popular opinion, there was enough of a need for a caregiver’s memoir about caring for her father with Alzheimer’s that “Shoes” went on to became a bestselling title.

Soon, I was speaking across the U.S. While many family caregivers were not yet speaking publicly, seeds were being planted to encourage them. Instead of silence, The Caregiver’s Voice was born.

In the two decades since, thousands of books have been written about caregiving with hundreds of websites and many more resources. People with dementia began speaking and writing as advocates raising awareness and helping one another.

While I didn’t expect to remain in this field for all these years, here I am.

After enjoying success in the first half of my career in corporate and academic settings, I’ve enjoyed the second half, working in healthcare settings where humanity guides people’s hearts. Communication seems more authentic and urgent, because life matters.

I reach a milestone later this year. I’ll be celebrating sixty years. It was about this time; my mother’s heart began to weaken. The way she lived her life taught me how to live mine. I am better about taking care of myself.

While it may not seem that I’ve taken care of myself working 16- to 18-hour days six and seven days a week for most of my 39-year career, I see an exciting future. I am filled with hope even though I feel scared sometimes. I know change will be a bit messy, but it usually is. The one thing I have going for me is that I am optimistic – always have been. Details to unfold as I learn what they are.