I was doing some work at the church where I attend meetings this morning and was about to finish a break conversation with the Pastor, who had been away for the last month.
As we were wrapping up and I was about to leave her office, my cell rang. It was Six Shooter so I decided to take the call in the storage room where I had been working.
Dwayne was calling to let me know that Bob had made his Final Transition and that this link had been posted. To say I was stunned is no where near the overwhelming sense of loss I felt. Shooter and I had just had a long conversation about our hopes and prayers for Remo only a few days ago. Neither of us could talk long today.
I picked up my tools and started back to work when a feeling came over me that I could not have been in a warmer place to receive such terrible news.
I went back into Pastor Sallie’s office and told her the story of Remo, how I knew him, his wife Paula’s continuing Alzheimer’s journey, and his own falling dominoes from being a 24/7 caregiver for far longer than he should have.
I must be a good story teller because by the time I was finished, Sallie was laughing and crying as much as I was.
I asked her to pray for Bob, that if it be His will, our Higher Power would shorten Paula’s remaining journey. I also asked Sallie if she could throw in a good word or two for those of us sharing our pain at loosing a close friend.
There are several things I am grateful for today, but they are all outweighed by the compassion given by Sallie and the comfort of her prayer.
Sallie did not suggest this, but my guess is that Bob got the keys to a new Corvette convertible when he checked in at the Gates.
A few years ago when my father made his Final Transition as a result of Alzheimer’s, I posted The Train Ride. Not too long after watching my mother's last domino fall, from being his 24/7 caregiver, I posted it again.
Tonight, I feel compelled to post The Train Ride one more time. Not just as a tribute to my friend Remo and his wife Paula, but to those in this family who may be experiencing their own family ripple effects of this terrible disease.
Good by, Bob. Thank you for enriching my life.
Tom
THE TRAIN RIDE
Imagine that the experience of having Alzheimer's disease might be similar to a journey by train with an unknown destination:
I am going on a long journey by train. As I begin, the city skyscrapers and country landscape look familiar. As I continue my journey, the view reminds me of times gone by and I feel relaxed and comfortable. The other passengers on the train appear to be feeling the same way and I engage in pleasant conversation with them.
As the journey progresses, things begin to look different. The buildings have odd shapes and the trees don’t look quite the way I remember them. I know they are buildings and trees, but something about them is not quite right. Maybe I’m in a different country with different architecture and plant life. It feels a bit strange, even unnerving.
I decide to ask the other passengers about the strangeness. I feel, but more importantly, I notice they seem unperturbed. They are barely taking notice of the passing scenery. Maybe they have been here before. I ask some questions but nothing seems different to them. I wonder if my mind is playing tricks with me. I decide to act as if everything looks alright, but because it does not, I have to be on my guard. This places some tension on me, but I believe I can tolerate it for the remainder of the trip. I do, however find myself becoming so preoccupied with appearing all right, that my attention is diverted from the passing scenery.
After some time, I look out the window again and this time, I know that something is wrong! Everything looks strange and unfamiliar! There is no similarity to anything I can recall from the past. I must do something!
I talk to the other passengers about the strangeness I feel. They look dumfounded and when they answer and they talk in a new language. Why won’t they speak English? They just look at me knowingly and with sympathy.
I’ve got to get to the bottom of this, so I keep after them to tell me where the train is, and where it is going. The only answers I get are in their strange language and when I talk, my words seem strange, even to me.
Now I am truly frightened!
I had not bargained for this when I started! At this point, I figure that I have to get off this train and find my way home. I get up to leave and bid a pleasant good-bye. I don’t get very far though, as the other passengers stop me and take me back to my seat. It seems they want me to stay on the train whether I want to or not. I try to explain but they just talk in that strange language.
Outside the window, the scenery is getting even more frightening. Strange, inhuman-looking beings peer into the window at me. I decide to run for it!
The other passengers are not paying much attention to me, so I slip out of my seat and quietly walk toward the back of the car. There’s a door. It is difficult to push, but I must! It begins to open and I push harder. Maybe now I will get away!
Even though it looks pretty strange out there, I know I will never find my way home if I do not get off this train.
I am ready to jump, when hands suddenly appear from nowhere and grab me from behind. I try to get away. I try to fight them off, but I can feel them pulling me back... back onto the train. I hear the door shut! They take me back to my seat and I realize now that I will never get off this train... I will never get home!
How sad I feel. I did not say good-bye to my children, wife, or friends. As far as I know, they do not know where I am.
The passengers look worried. They force me to eat. It is difficult because I am too sad to be hungry.
I fervently wish that I had never started out on this journey, but I know I cannot go back.
I have no choice now.
I have to go along with the passengers because they seem to know where the journey will end.
Maybe they will get me there safely.
Dawson, P., Wells, D.L & Kline, K. (1993) Enhancing the Abilities of Persons with Alzheimer's and related Dementias. New York: Springer Publishing Co: pp xiv-xv