“I love him so much,” she said, smiling happily. “Isn’t he adorable?”
And he is.
At that instant, he was completely occupied with the flowers in their garden—not even looking at us, as the sweetness of his soul shined through.
We all stood in the shade of their backyard; quiet, and peaceful.
He turned around to look at her and smile.
She was content. They both were.
It was a tiny segment out of today. As romantic as a scene out of a movie; and it was real—-a love story; not playing on screen but in the mundane moments of daily life.
For her, it plays every hour of every day of every year.
For me, a casual guest in their home, it was a revelation.
Because I saw something unexpected in something I thought I knew.
With the history of a disease that has struck everyone on my father’s side of the family, I often say I hope to survive cancer long enough to get Alzheimers. I tease V about wiping my drool; tease my kids about pulling the plug. Yet the truth is no joke; it’s something I’ve seen close up; something I dread—-enough to know that I don’t want to be around once I lose enough brain cells (beyond the stuff I already forget now).
And I’ve felt absolutely certain about this……until today. Watching this scene sheds light on a different side of the picture.
Suddenly today I see something new—-a glimpse of something positive that can possibly be extracted from the negative reality of Alzheimers. And that positive possibility exists as long as there is the possibility of something else——not life, but love.