‘Every Waking Moment,’ Part II — Lessons Gained
It’s fun to see the results of writing friends in Michigan, whom we haven’t seen in over 20 years, to tell them that nearly every Christmas Barb and I use their recipe for caramel popcorn. Their reply not only brought us current on their family, but came with an added bonus. It was recommended that we read one of Chris Fabry’s books. We ended up reading one of the author’s other books because we couldn’t get the one mentioned in their email. The one we read was “Every Waking Moment,” which I reviewed last week and indicated I would continue the column this week on how the book impacted me.
Videotaping as the two storytellers did in making their documentary at Desert Gardens can be a valuable tool. You have no idea of knowing who will see the documentary in the future. It records facts on the lives of relatives and is a great way to preserve history. It would have been fun to videotape my parents about their lives before they died many years ago. When Mother was in her mid-eighties (Dad passed away earlier) and we were looking for a new home for her, my brother videotaped interviews with residents from a small living facility in Vermont and sent it to me to show to Mother. Mother ended up moving there and things worked out quite well with my brother’s family living nearby and Barb and I making frequent trips to visit from Pennsylvania. The resides were happy to oblige my brother in the filming. I think it gave them a boost because it made them feel important, which they were.
The challenges that Treha faced did not stop her from successfully reaching elderly people, some of whom had dementia or Alzheimer’s. She had an innate ability to communicate with them through listening, caring and touching them. Some of the residents at Desert Gardens spoke volumes in a few sentences: “You live your whole life collecting things that collect dust and then you realize you’re collecting dust too.” Or: “You feed us and house us and protect us from everything out there, until you finally decide to protect us from everything in here. No matter how hard you try, you cannot take our dignity if we will not offer it to you.” I have always gotten along well with the elderly (I have written a several columns on them and their lives) and hope I will be even more sensitive to them, which probably won’t be too hard because I am catching up to them quickly. This is quite evident since my six year old grandson recently announced to his family at the dinner table that Papa is ancient. When asked by his parents what he meant, he said: “Papa is almost a century old!”
Two people taught me about the power of soft speaking and softly touching someone who is very ill and seems unable to comprehend what is going on (Treha and my sister-in-law, Ruth, who is a registered nurse). My sister, Linda, who died last November, was in a nursing home. Eight family members gathered in her room the afternoon before she died the next day. Linda, on much pain medication, seemed to be soundly sleeping. Seven of us in the room talked quietly about Linda’s life and the family. Ruth was wise enough to go to the side of Linda’s bed, talk with her softly and gently rub her arm. Ruth was sure she was getting through to Linda.
If you liked “Every Waking Moment,” you only know half the story. I hope you will read its sequel, “Looking into You,” which I will write soon. It not only completes the story of Treha but also provides much valuable human insight.
Jeff Hall, of Honey Brook, contributes columns to Berks-Mont Newspapers. Questions/ comments may be directed to jeffreyhall77@comcast.net