Here's to you, Jeanne.

I treat myself nice. But I try not to baby myself. To not feel sorry for myself. Maybe that's how I avoid depression. I really don't know. It's a mystery. Maybe I'm lucky. Blessed. When Jeanne was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, and I had to become the primary care-giver, maybe I felt sorry for myself for a little while. But I rallied. When I contemplated I'd rather be the care-giver than the patient. And I clearly understood that I loved Jeanne. Very much. And I felt bad for Jeanne. Oh, Jeanne went through a period of belligerence. Negativity. Who wouldn't? Maybe it was Jeanne sensing that I wasn't taking the situation too well. Maybe I exuded some bad vibes. But the turn around came when I understood that. And I began to exude good vibes. No matter what happened. I was going to counter Jeanne's belligerence and my doldrums with an upbeat attitude. With good vibes. Positive vibes. I was gonna take charge. Of myself. And of Jeanne's care. I was gonna become a lover in the unconditional sense. And it's lasted. Two and a half years after Jeanne's death. When I'm down. I find ways to get up. That's what Jeanne would want. For me to treat myself nice. Without being a baby. So here's to you, Jeanne. While you were dying, you taught me how to live. --Jim Broede