Snapshots of Dementia: A Tale of Two Blessings

Snapshots of Dementia: A Tale of Two Blessings
Thursday, March 3, 2022 by Marti

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. It was the age of coronavirus; it was the epoch of pandemic. We had dementia before us; we had faith behind us.

And through it all, we had a God who loved us and provided for our every need.

We moved to our new home in the upstate of South Carolina in late November of 2019, right as the first echoes of COVID-19 sounded in far-off countries. We had only just started to settle in when the lockdown came, and especially because of Tom’s dementia, we exercised what many describe as “an abundance of caution.”

“You don’t want him in the hospital without you,” our primary care doctor told me. “And that’s exactly what would happen.”

So we watched church services online. We visited with faraway family members on the phone and online. Our local daughter and her husband did our grocery shopping. And for many months, we saw few people other than medical professionals—and family.

We were then—and are now—so thankful for family. Yes, we could have quarantined from them as well—but without that at least weekly connection with our daughter, son-in-love, and preschool-age grandson, I’m not sure what would have happened. We needed those hugs, that laughter, that break from our increasingly quiet routine.

Tom needed that. I needed that.

As the lockdown wore on, a temporary family member joined us: a teenage foster grandson, a former student of our daughter’s. Arriving in November 2020, he would only live with her family for the rest of that school year.

You might not think a fifteen-year-old special education student who had lived his entire life in South Carolina and a sixty-five-year-old man living with dementia who had traveled the world as a professional musician and pastor would have much in common. But in this case, you’d be wrong.

We figured it out the first time “H” came to visit. Our daughter often taught from home, and sometimes H had school from home as well. But he didn’t always have to log in during the day, so he sometimes came to us instead.

“I have to work, so he’ll be spending most of the day with Daddy,” I told our daughter the first time she asked if H could visit.

“I know, Mom. They can just hang out.”

And hang out they did. Turns out they had simple board games (Uno, Yahtzee, Sorry!, even Candyland) in common. H showed incredible patience when he had to remind Tom whose turn it was or when Tom argued about a roll of the die, which was often. He only chuckled when Tom got aggravated about losing, which was even more often. I had to step in once in a while with a word of correction—always for Tom, never for H.

When Tom lost patience with board games (usually after an hour or two), they watched movies or old TV shows. Once again, H demonstrated amazing patience as Tom rolled out many of his old favorites, including those H had seen before. They laughed at the same lines, and if H failed to do so, Tom made sure he knew why he should have. And once again, H never complained.

I soon realized this odd couple shared the same taste in food, with pizza, macaroni and cheese, and nachos high on the list. I knew things were going well when Tom offered to share his treasured ice cream. And it made perfect sense that Tom’s favorite foods matched those of a teenage boy. H also shared Tom’s love for homemade cookies, so somehow, whenever he visited, I made sure we had a freshly baked batch.

I’ve made it sound as though Tom was the major recipient here, and he was. But these times blessed H as well.

“I’ve never heard H talk so much,” our daughter told us the first time she came to pick him up. Week after week, he wanted to return, until he was spending nearly every Friday at our house. His presence gave Tom a purpose: the opportunity to serve a neglected young man and to bless him with the love of Christ. What his dementia had stolen from him in terms of ministry, his time with H—in a most unusual twist—gave back.

As the pandemic wound down (for the first time, anyway), school ended, and H’s time with our family did too. He left without much fanfare, although we did give him a graphic Bible, a match for the only books I had seen him read. I pray it will not only teach him more about Jesus but remind him of his time with a man who needed him—and how God used him to bless our family in ways none of us expected.

What unexpected people or things have come into your life or the life of someone you know, whether that person is living with dementia or not? Our story matters—and so does yours. Feel free to share your comments below or on social media.

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