It was a good run.

In her sojourn with Alzheimer’s, Jeanne ultimately became more childlike. In some ways, that is. And that wasn’t bad. Actually, I saw it as darn good. Something nice. In a meaningful way. It gave me a glimpse of what Jeanne was like as a child. She must have been a happy and contented child. Upbeat. Full of life. Anyway, I hadn’t lost Jeanne. I was seeing Jeanne in an extraordinary dimension. Another facet. Jeanne was still the adult Jeanne, too. Versatile. But most important, she was happy. She knew me. Called me Jim. And honey. And one night came a totally new name. Baby. Came out of the blue. Oh, so affectionate. I adored Jeanne. We always managed to reach each other. Appreciate each other. Love each other. Enjoy each other. It might be a different story if Jeanne had become belligerent and agitated and totally out of it. But that wasn’t the case. And so we almost always managed to live in the present. And we didn’t worry about tomorrow. I had Jeanne that day. That moment. A Jeanne that I liked and loved. A still communicative Jeanne. In so many, many ways. Despite the dementia. I learned to savor every minute. It was a good run. --Jim Broede