Great starts are easy, the goal is to finish well
While having lunch and visiting with our friends at one of the senior centers we regularly attend, old Motown songs played in the background. I found myself singing along with Stevie Wonder’s hit from 1984, “I Just Called to Say I Love You”. It reminded me of the importance of connecting with our loved ones. As Valentine’s Day approaches, this song, with its simple message, serves as a lovely reminder to make contact with those we love, especially those living alone or in nursing homes.
How do you connect with someone who is losing their ability to communicate? If you want to make positive connections with your loved one, understand there are definite Rules of Engagement. It turns out there is a bit of a learning curve when engaging someone with dementia.
I’ve addressed this subject before, but I believe it bears reiterating. When someone becomes non-verbal due to the progression of dementia, it doesn’t mean that they cannot understand our words, or ‘get’ our actions.
It’s important to remember that communication and connections made on an emotional level will remain throughout the dementia journey.
Do you remember the old theme song from the TV show, Cheers written by Gary Portnoy and Judy Hart-Angelo? “…sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came. You want to be where you can see, troubles are all the same, you want to be where everybody knows your name.” The writers really hit on something – as the song immediately became an iconic sentiment for the universal desire to belong. There is something so wonderful about walking into a place and watching someone’s eyes light up with recognition and joy that you are there. On the other hand, there is something quite heart-wrenching about walking through your day virtually invisible and un-greeted by those around you.
Not too long ago, Wayne and I went out for a bite of lunch. We were enjoying ourselves. The food was good and there was pleasant music playing in the background. At one point, we noticed a family near us. It was a middle-aged couple and an older lady we assumed to be their Mama. She reminded me a bit of my Mama. She seemed to be having a delightful time while eating her meal as well as swaying to the music. When it changed to a faster tempo, she began clapping along. The couple with her seemed a bit uncomfortable with the way she was acting, saying things such as, “Settle down now Mama, eat your food.” And, “Don’t clap so loud, just enjoy the music.”
Mama lived with us for a season after my Daddy passed away. During that time, dementia continually claimed more and more of her abilities. Her attention span was decreasing, and she would often tire or lose interest in activities she had previously enjoyed. A few things remained. Singing was her very favorite, but we couldn’t always do that. Mama’s second favorite activity was looking at pictures of smiling faces. One day, I came across an old church directory filled with photos of all the members. She loved it!
Now that the world has reawakened from its pandemic paralysis, families and friends are beginning to once again gather in person for get-togethers. Celebrations, memorials, and weddings are no longer being held virtually, or any other creative ways folks came up with to gather at a distance. Although the year 2022 began with yet another variant, the sounds of silence finally began to decrease, as the voices of joy slowly started to rise.
Back in 1969, the band, ‘Three Dog Night’ struck a resounding chord with their hit song, ‘One’ . The song begins, “One is the loneliest number that you’ll ever do”. It’s as true today as it was back then. The recent COVID pandemic with the culture that emerged from it has unfortunately created a lot of ‘Ones’ – a multitude of folks isolated from family and friends.
The most famous song to be sung at midnight on December 31 must be “Auld Lang Syne”, by the Scottish poet Robert Burns. I wondered how a Scottish poem became a New Year’s Eve tradition in America.
The New Year’s Eve festivities taking place in New York City’s Times Square were televised for the first time in 1943. Guy Lombardo’s dance band was performing live while the TV viewers waited for midnight. Lombardo decided to close out his New Year’s Eve performances with the song “Auld Lang Syne”.
The audience loved it. He made the song a New Year’s tradition. This yearly television exposure encouraged Americans to adopt as their own, the custom of singing “Auld Lang Syne” to bid farewell to the old year.
As I begin packing for another trip to California, (of course, that was before the world shut down due to the Coronavirus), I am reminded that this is becoming all too familiar. Not the trip, but the reason for it. Loss. After a certain age, the expectation that we will experience loss becomes more likely, not that it cannot happen to anyone of any age. My experience has been that loss is becoming a more recognizable part of the landscape along the way. We can’t escape it. It is part of humanity; every person in our life carries the risk of loss. The risk is worth it though – how joyless and lonely would we be if we shunned companionship in order to shield ourselves from the sadness connected to losing someone.
The old question about trees falling in forests, and whether or not they make a sound may still be up for debate. But I do know that a person would have to connect the sound heard to the tree falling in order to understand what happened. I discovered that my Mama also benefited more from our time together when I followed a few simple rules of engagement.