The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age
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    Missing

    By barefooted on Mon, 06/29/2015 - 4:01am |

    I watched a documentary about Glenn Campbell on CNN. Yes, him. The country music star known for such hits as "Rhinestone Cowboy" and "Wichita Lineman", the teen actor alongside John Wayne in "True Grit" and an honest-to-goodness shucks ma'am down home good 'ol boy TV show host. He was also diagnosed with Alzheimer's a few years ago. The documentary focused on his last album and tour after learning of his illness ... though it's not quite right to say they learned of it. It was just official. Mostly filmed in 2012, it's a sweet, honest look inside a privilaged (diagnosed at the Mayo Clinic) family and friends who surrounded him as he made the journey ... while also on tour. Did I mention it promoted his farewell "I'll Be Me" album?

    As a kid, I liked his music, for the most part. He was kinda hard to miss. But I didn't watch because of a lingering interest or curiosity about what Alzheimer's does. I wanted to see if it portrayed even the tiniest bit of what I saw. What I lived through as I lost my mom. What she lived through as she lost me. While it was him and she was her ... it was real, and it told truths oddly, comfortably familiar.

    This is where I stop.

    I still haven't figured out how to put words together about it. I don't think there are any.

    When I consider that time, enough to work my way through, I don't focus on those of us who were on the outside. I am now as I was then far more engrossed in contemplation of her. I was incredibly lucky, in that I had her mostly to myself as she maneuvered through the daily labyrinth that was her changing world. We trusted each other implicitly, talking and talking until the quiet took over. Her anxious smile, her sometimes frightened and absent eyes played with me. The secrets she'd tell me made no sense but were so important to hear - the dreams that plagued her, the bits and pieces of what mattered.

    None of the real stuff happened after she left her home for the last time. Or maybe it did ... it's all about the memories, though, and these are mine. The real stuff was when she was still very much with me, but somewhere else was creeping up alongside. Everyone says it happens slowly at first and picks up steam later on, but the pace is irrelevant. It's nonexistent, truth be told. She remembered and forgot me, all at the same time and all mixed up together.

    Names became darlin' and sweetheart, chuckles and furtive glances answered pleasantries. I could feel her fearfulness, her desperation. I knew that somewhere inside she was trying to hold on to something already worthless, already gone - yet seemingly important to people she wanted to love. It was for us, for me, those last years of trying.

    It comforts me to know that eventually she gave me up for the sake of herself. Wherever she went, I couldn't follow; I wasn't supposed to. None of us who loved her could. But then again, some journeys are meant to be taken solo.

    One of Campbell's songs from his last album was nominated for an Oscar. It's titled "I'm Not Gonna Miss You", and I like what it says. The point is pretty simple ... even as our pain grows, theirs melts away. Works for me.

    Comments

    Barefooted, this is such a lovely memoir. Thanks for sharing it.


    by Oxy Mora on Mon, 06/29/2015 - 10:48pm

    I remember watching my mother-in-law take one step down, then a plateau, then another step, another ledge to catch her breath - each time less certainty what was happening. All that remained was wordless trust, and without that unspoken trust of those around, I can't imagine what she would have done or more exact, how she would have felt as she could do nothing. I remember her leaving home for the last time - she somehow knew. I took her hand to try to make it okay, but still she knew - I could feel the restrained panic. And when those last repetitive rasps came, it was no longer her that had to trust me - it was me that had to trust - to pat her hand or massage her foot and hope it made a difference, to speak soothing words and hope she was soothed, and in the end just trust that her silence meant resolution. It's strange - I had little to bond with her when she had her senses, but the more that words disappeared and I found I liked her and respected her and hoped and cheered for all the best and in the end found a different kind of love and closeness than I'd ever expected, in those little moments, allowances, inconveniences that turned into precious duty. We'd play this game of both knowing, her getting a wizened smile on her face and we'd both nod and the kids wouldnlook on agog, like "did grandma really understand that?" We tricked death, we tricked Alzheimer's, we pulled a rabbit out of a hat where there was none so we even tricked ourselves. And in the end she snuck down the rabbit hole, and that was that.

    by PeraclesPlease on Tue, 06/30/2015 - 12:22am

    It is a different kind of love, an unexpected bonding that can't be explained but is strangely satisfying. If people have a core, a center, then it's laid bare when conscious thought is lost and all that's left is humanity ... learning, opening your own mind to the unknown of theirs is indescribably hard. But when it happens, it's worth a lifetime.

    You wrote a comment in response to a post by Ramona, I think, quite awhile ago about your mom-in-law. I had lost my mom not long before I read your words, and what you wrote tore at my heart even as it helped me to heal. Peracles, I will forever thank you for that unintentional kindness.


    by barefooted on Tue, 06/30/2015 - 1:17am

    Glad it helped.


    by PeraclesPlease on Tue, 06/30/2015 - 4:57am

    Wherever she went, I could not follow.

    I have no idea if this is relevant.

    But I just viewed a film starring my favorite old guy, Morgan Freeman.

    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Magic_of_Belle_Isle

    In that film an author wishes to give it all away.

    And yet, he finds a reason to live.

    But when you find that you cannot find.

    The end is near.

    I was just thinking about this fine film I watched this morning.

    It may be that when those who have not lost it, see or read about those who have....there must be a reason to keep on keepin on.

    That is how  I  feel.

    Inspiration is there for all of us.

    And, I was a fan of Glenn.

    the end

     


    by Richard Day on Tue, 06/30/2015 - 12:33am

    Thanks for writing this.  

    Science is getting better at understanding the causes of this. 


    by trkingmomoe on Tue, 06/30/2015 - 3:55pm

    There have been studies that link the THC in marijuana to the reduction of the plaque cells that are generally considered to be a causation factor for Alzheimer's. This National Institute of Health publication is just one example. Unfortunately, much needed research into the medical use of cannibus faces a multitude of challenges - many politically motivated, others due to societal and mainstream medicine resistance.


    by barefooted on Tue, 06/30/2015 - 6:15pm