The Only Memory Even Alzheimer’s Cannot Erase

The power of love

She’s delusional, I told everyone. She wants to believe it so badly that she has imagined it. It was June 2004, two years before my husband was officially diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease, and because I had watched TV programs and read magazine articles about it, I thought I knew most of what there was to know about Alzheimer’s Disease.

So when I heard Nancy Reagan say that her beloved “Ronnie”, who had been comatose for weeks, hadn’t acknowledged her in years, and hadn’t opened his eyes for days, suddenly, minutes before his last breath, opened his eyes, looked straight at her with clear bright blue eyes devoid of the chalkiness of the Alzheimer’s cloud, I was sure it was what she wished for in her imagination. She indicated that it was his last message of love to her. She called it the “greatest gift he could have given me.”

I called it nonsense and wishful thinking.

Alzheimer’s Disease steals the memories, cognition, abilities, and physical functions of once bright, accomplished, artists, authors, lawyers, doctors, presidents, and ordinary people. It turns them into shells with no memories of their lives or loved ones. It leaves them bedridden, infantile, and eventually kills them.

It’s a downward spiral from which no one recovers. When Alzheimer’s Disease steals an ability, it is lost forever. It does not regenerate.

I knew that. Everyone knew that, right?

However, I had always recognized and appreciated the deep love the Reagans had for one another because my husband and I shared the same type of loving bond. The physical, emotional, and mental closeness. Depending upon one another for emotional support, love, laughter, passion, and encouraging each other’s dreams and ambitions. Loving each other with a fierceness that nothing could tear apart.

The Reagans had it, so it would be natural for Nancy to think that her “Ronnie” could emerge from the memory destruction of Alzheimer’s Disease and convey his love for her one last time.

My heart broke for her, and I shed tears for a woman who was a stranger to me. But I didn’t believe a word she said.

And then Alzheimer’s Disease took me by the throat, bashed my head against the wall, and stabbed me in the heart repeatedly for 12 long years.

It destroyed the memories, cognition, and abilities of the man I had loved since I laid eyes on him when I was 10 years old.

But it also taught me the most important and surprising lesson I will ever learn about Alzheimer’s Disease. I learned that Alzheimer’s disease steals one’s memories of events. It may even steal their memory of the identity of the person they have lived with for decades, but what Alzheimer’s Disease cannot do is steal the memory of love.

Alzheimer’s Disease stole our cherished shared memories of a lifetime from my husband’s mind.

It tore my heart to shreds when he asked me how we met, what we did on our first date, why we only had one child, why he didn’t live with us, and where he did live.

It was as if our life together had been wiped out. I was devastated.

Although he did not remember my name, he knew I was his wife. Whenever I visited him in the nursing home, his face would light up, he would smile and say, “Oh, I’ve missed you. Look, everyone, my wife is here.” It was better than him not knowing me at all, so I accepted it gratefully.

In the end, I never left his side when he was transferred to Hospice House. To keep him comfortable, as he was riddled with pain from various ailments, he was drugged into a near-comatose state. He was unable to talk or respond.

The nurses told me that he was “hanging on” because he didn’t want to leave me and I had to tell him it was okay to go.

No, it wasn’t okay for him to go. I selfishly wanted him to stay, but of course, I didn’t want him to linger in that horrible condition.

Until the day I die, I will never know where I found the courage, but I placed my head next to his and told him that I had loved him my entire life, that I adored our life together, that he had been the best husband I could ever have imagined, and that it was time for him to rest. At that moment, my heart shattered.

And then, as I stood up, the man who couldn’t remember my name, how we met, or any of our life’s milestones, grabbed my wrist with strength I did not think he possessed. He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it. A lifetime of love enveloped me.

Alzheimer’s Disease stole his cognition, abilities, and all of his life’s memories, but Alzheimer’s Disease could not steal the memory of his love for me.

Less than 24 hours later, he was gone.

If you are caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s Disease, I implore you to take this lesson to heart. Alzheimer’s Disease cannot steal the memory of love.

Hold your loved one with Alzheimer’s Disease close; kiss them; wrap your arms around them; they have not lost the ability to feel or remember their love for you or yours for them.

Trust Nancy Reagan and me on this one.

NOTE: A series of my informative articles on Alzheimer’s Disease can be found under the category “Alzheimer’s Disease” in my Medium Table of Contents.

©Joan Gershman 2023

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