Last month, Julie posted a comment on a guest post published on TheCaregiversVoice.com. It’s been six years since her husband passed. I suggested she write an inspirational “postscript to caregiving”.
Guest article by Julie Bennett
Finding joy while grieving is an elusive feeling that needs to be nurtured. Give yourself time. You can do it.
After writing The Phoenix Man, about caring for my husband, Brenda Avadian wrote an insightful article highlighting important aspects of my book. I was amazed and pleased with Brenda’s take on the highs and lows of my husband, Scott’s and my journey. Regarding Scott’s many health issues and near-death experiences, Brenda wrote, “Sprinkled among the daily life-and-death struggles and challenges with medical personnel, are nuggets of humor and awe.” She also wrote, “If you think serving as the President of the United States for four to eight years is challenging, try being a loving caregiver for a dozen years….”
I’ve often wondered how someone lives never knowing when the next health issue will be their last.
Grieving loss, yet…
It’s been almost six years since Scott passed and I still miss him every day. During those 12 years of caregiving, I would have thought that I was done grieving. Yet after he passed, I was despondent at times. Never around my friends or family as I didn’t think I could show my pain. The hard crying was done alone in my bedroom while preparing for a Celebration of Life three months later and writing The Phoenix Man in 2020. And yet, I also felt ready to volunteer as a support group facilitator for the Alzheimer’s Association. It helped that I was still in an Alzheimer’s support group myself.
Finding JOY Eating Out and Playing Games with the Grandkids
Finding joy was always on my mind as I created a new life without the love of my life. In the beginning, little things brought me joy, like going out to eat. Whether it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner, I was there. Getting together with friends to play board games or work crosswords, Sudoku, and Wordle puzzles, have kept my mind active. Once I started playing Wordle, I told my sons and friends. Now my best friend’s mother and I call each other to gloat if we get the five-letter word in two. (The New York Times sponsors Wordle, where you try to guess a five-letter word with only six tries.)
The best thing about my life now is having my grandson (9) and granddaughter (6) for a sleepover. I can’t count the number of times we end up laughing our hearts out over something one of them said or watching a silly movie. It’s not always hunky-dory though. I’ve witnessed many tantrums, which usually means one of the children is tired. How I respond requires a lot of patience and thoughtful strategies. Sometimes, I’m too tired to figure it out. I won’t elaborate as I’m focusing here on finding joy.
My Butt’s on Fire
Not too long ago, the three of us were watching Night at the Museum when suddenly my granddaughter yelled, “My butt’s on fire, my butt’s on fire.” I got up and saw nothing. “How is your butt on fire?” I asked. My grandson calmly replied, “It’s just the heater in the recliner.”
“What????” I shrieked while laughing with joy as I realized there were heaters in the couch’s recliners and in the recliner chair I use. I started mimicking my granddaughter saying, “My butt’s on fire, my butt’s on fire!” We all laughed, hysterically.
I was so excited to learn that I could warm myself up while watching TV and that my granddaughter’s butt wasn’t really on fire. Talk about finding joy!
Roommate’s Butt is Also on Fire
My granddaughter’s butt story reminded me of an earlier time when Scott was in a nursing home. He had four roommates, and one of them, Ken, was trying to get someone’s attention.
The following is excerpted from The Phoenix Man, Second Edition, Page 201:
Ken was in bed moaning saying his butt felt like it was on fire. He kept calling me, “Nurse, I need your help.”
“Ken, I’m not a nurse.”
“You’re not? You’re so pretty. Help me.”
“Ken, I can’t help you.”
“Give me a hug.”
“Nice try, Ken, but I can’t give you a hug.” I put my arms around Scott from behind and said, “I can hug Scott since he’s my husband.”
“He is?” Ken responded with a mischievous smile.
Then Scott said, “Yeah, buddy, and you keep your hands off her!” The idea of them trying to fight over me when neither one can stand up unassisted made me chuckle. Ken eventually fell asleep, so I guess his butt pain went away.
Experiencing silly conversations of two men living the end of their lives and being able to spend time with my grandchildren have helped me on this new journey. As I continue my life, I find that love and joy are the only ways to live. I hope you will find the joy too, with lots of love.
