Sunday, April 24, 2022

The Two Lynda's

 April 23, 2022

It's a Saturday.

Today begins the start of the annual New Jersey Wool Walk.  

According to the NJWW website:

What is the NJWW?
During this yearly event, participating yarn stores offer special events, discounts, designer appearances, book signings, and trunk shows. 

This year's event starts today and goes until May, 1.  

I believe this is the first in-person event since the pandemic.

In past years I would have been out the door already with Ross, a list of yarn shops and a map in tow. 

Although I am tempted, this year I'm not motivated.  Perhaps that's because instead of being the leisurely passenger and navigator I will be the driver/navigator.

Besides I am comfortably ensconced in my cozy knitting knook at the moment.

I am also on a strict yarn diet.  Although, I could use a skein of Mohair for that future project which has yet to be decided. 

I am feeling kind of down today and a little lethargic Maybe I need to go to a yarn store or two.  I'm thinking that yarn sensory therapy just might be the ticket.   

April 24, 2022

It's a Sunday

Well, we didn't go to the woolwalk.  

One of the learning experiences I have had over these past two years is that Ross is much better when we are out and about.

Thinking about how yesterday turned out, we most definitely should have gone.    

I asked Ross several times during the morning if he was interested in visiting our favorite yarn store.  He shook his head.  "No," he said.  "I just don't feel like it."

As I continued about my day, going through the house doing laundry, straightening, thinking about what to prepare for lunch, I suddenly noticed it had been a few minutes since I had seen Ross. 

When we are in the house, Ross is usually not out of my site for more than a few minutes.  

As I started to look in each room calling his name, I noticed the front door was ajar.  I stepped out and looked up and down the street but didn't see him.  

At this point in our Alzheimer's journey Ross doesn't recognize where he lives.   Even though the houses in our development are uniform, they are different, but in Ross' world he cannot disquinish which house is his.  

Although this isn't the first time this has happened,  his behavior is usually an indication that he might want to "wander".  This time I had no warning. 

I must say, the first couple of times Ross has wandered off, I panicked.  I had that stomach drop feeling, like when you lose your child in the mall.  

But yesterday I was rather calm. I guess that's because I knew I would find him safe and sound. 

 I got my car keys with the intention of driving around to look for him.  I knew he couldn't have gone too far.  When I got outside, I again looked down the street and I spotted them, two blocks away.   It was Ross with one of our neighbors.  They were arm in arm and she was walking him towards our house. 

As I said this isn't the first time.  But my feelings were different this time.  

The first few times he wandered I got angry at Ross.  

"Why did you do that?" I would say in my upset parent voice.  And then I would lecture about the dangers of him being out alone. 

But, that was inexperienced caregiver anger.  That was the lack of understanding anger.  

Yesterday, I still felt angry, but my anger is directed at this horrible disease.  

I feel frustrated because I don't know how to stop Ross from wandering.  I fact, 20 minutes later, he did the exact same thing.  I found him standing in front of that same neighbor's house.  Interestingly enough, her name is Linda. My neighbor Linda and I look nothing alike. 

So instead of going to the NJWW we wound up going to the German Butcher shop.  Ross loves to go there.  I'd like to say that the rest of the day was swell, but it wasn't.   

We have nice moments during each day.  Some days those moments add up to hours.  Some days the not so nice moments seem like hours.

 Perhaps today we will go to the New Jersey Wool Walk.  I could really use that sensory yarn therapy. 


Monday, April 4, 2022

Because That's Who Joe Was

 April 4, 2022

It's a Monday

Today would have been my son Joe's 47th birthday.  It's been 10 years since he passed away. 

I started this blog ten years ago to write what I had a hard time saying out loud. 

"They" say grief is a process one goes through after a loss.  

"You may not believe it now, "they" said, but eventually you will be able to think of Joe without the ache."  

"Oh yes, you will be able to remember the happy times you had with Joe and you will find yourself smiling", "they" said.  

I hold so tightly onto the "loss ache", though.  Perhaps my long ago memories are too faded now. 

But, as I sit here quietly today, close my eyes and reflect on that 47 years ago day, I surprisingly find that I can easily bring forth the hidden memories that "loss ache" tries to overshadow. 

It was an easy birth, of course it would be because that's who Joe was.  

When he was placed in my arms, he wasn't wriggly, but lay there quietly looking up at me as if he were trying to figure out where he was and who I was.   Yep, that was Joe.  Quiet and  introspective.   

I remember the day as a  happy and joyous one, yet peaceful at the same time.   A day spent studying each other, checking each other out.   I like to think that Joe, after careful consideration, cause that's who Joe was, made a decision to keep me as his mom.   😍

And so for a little bit of time today I found myself smiling.  Because that's who Joe was.