Getting on with life.

I often reminded my dear Jeanne that she didn’t have Alzheimer’s. When I knew she really did.  Right up to the middle stages. I told white lies. To make Jeanne feel better. To buoy her spirits. To relieve the anxiety. Nothing wrong with that. Sensed it was the right thing to do. Maybe in some ways I was in a state of denial. But that’s  all right. A little self-deception. Doesn’t hurt. After the middle stages, I learned to keep dousing Jeanne in good vibes.  Soothing words. Soothing voice. Gave her massages. Nightly showers.  Played the music she always liked. Took her outdoors. Daily. In her wheelchair. For long, long rides. Didn’t matter if it was winter. In Minnesota. Wrapped Jeanne in a thermal sleeping bag. She loved the outdoors. And nature. Always did. For 13 years we found ways to cope with the disease. Not always perfectly. Made my share of mistakes. But I learned. On the job. In the end, it became pleasure.  Even today,  I reflect on it. I remember Jeanne fondly. She’d be happy to know that I got on with life. That I’m happy.  Living with my second true love. An Italian. In Sardinia. At this very moment. Maybe Jeanne’s spirit brought us together.   Wouldn’t surprise me.  –Jim Broede