Home » Poetry » Finding The Sun (My Husband My Caregiver) This is Dementia

Finding The Sun (My Husband My Caregiver) This is Dementia


With a light hearted gesture she makes her way
to her closet where his little wicker bed awaits;
she tucks him in and with a few loving taps on his head,
smiles as she feels his gratitude and caresses her hand with his rough tongue.
She is settled now she knows where her cat is and he is safe.

She doesn’t need her walker to make the trip down the little hallway,
…I wonder where the cat is, is he safe, are the windows shut?
I can’t have him escape! I better check just to be safe.
Her footprints embed the bedroom carpet once more, and as
she stands there thinking I must have come in here for something.
she makes her way to the window to make sure it is closed tightly,
fixes the hat on one of her favourite dolls, and as she is making her way to
the doorway the thought crosses her mind, I wonder where the cat is.

A call from the living room interrupts her thoughts, and she is beckoned
to join her husband on the sofa to watch the news.
Slowly she follows the tiled path to the living room where she picks up her little songbird
from the old end table, and turns the little switch to make him sing.
Checking the curtains and the living room windows to make sure they are closed,
she sinks down in her spot at the end of the couch.

Reaching for her cream coloured Afghan with the embroidered robin,
she tucks it around her legs. Looking above her treasured piano is a picture,
one, two, three, four, five, yes they are all there. They are my daughters,
yes I know they are my daughters, i wish they would move closer…

She looks over at the man sitting in the recliner, he is so handsome and looks so tired,
I’m glad he is sleeping, a rest will do him good. I wonder where the cat is? With great effort
she works her way out of the comfort of the couch and follows the tiled pathway to the bedroom.
she sees the cat curled up on the bed, fixes the hat on her favourite doll, and makes her way back to the living room.

Nestled in her cream coloured Afghan with the embroidered robin, she looks over at
her sleeping husband, she gently rests her hand on his arm as she falls asleep,
The dreams are the same…
Holding hands and walking through meadows of green,
she knows him, and sweetly calls his name
with tenderness and love they embrace under the tree of life,
the former life is past, dementia has no place in this land.

She is awaken by her husband’s voice “I love you”
she smiles as she recognizes that beautiful old hymn he is humming,
“I have heard of a land, where the sun is always shining…
God has promised in His word, bow thy head and you’ll be heard.”



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