From the Kane County Chronicle:
For her book, “Calling It Quits: Late Life Divorce and Starting Over,” Deirdre Blair:
...interviewed more than 400 ex-wives and ex-husbands who ranged in age from 50 to 83 and had ended marriages that had lasted anywhere from 20 to 60 years. She also talked to adult children of older divorced parents.
....
Blair relates the story of a couple whose marriage had been a daily battleground. After 42 years together, when both were in their 60s, they divorced.
Twenty years passed, and both individuals developed Alzheimer’s and needed supervision.
Their daughter took them into her home until she could arrange for permanent, and separate, care.
“Because they couldn’t remember being married to one another, they became the best of friends,” Blair said.
“They talk about how they wish they’d met when they were younger so they could have gotten married. They’re certain that they would have had a marriage that would have lasted forever. It’s a perfect example of how divorce later in life happens for many reasons, takes many different forms and can have surprising outcomes.”
The story seems incredible, but, if true, it's amazing and sweet.
This can cut two ways. The parents of a former colleague were very happily married for many years when the husband developed Alzheimer's. At some point, the mother sustained a relatively minor injury and spent three days in hospital. When she returned home, the father barraged the daughter, who he could remember, with complaints that a strange woman had been brought to his house and dumped there. Eventually he became reconciled to the situation, but he never recognized his new housemate as his loving wife of sixty years. Very sad.
ReplyDeleteThat is a sad story, Lapin.
ReplyDeleteIn the story that I posted, the daughter must be thankful that her parents take joy and consolation from their relationship now, in their sickness, as they did not when they were in their right minds.
I read this sort of thing and give thanks for diabetes and cancer. I am hoping one of them will spare me from that sort of long time dying.
ReplyDeleteFWIW
jimB
Jim, to be or not to be, that IS the question as one advances in age. I pray my sense of humor remains intact. It's a life saver - er, that's not quite right, but you know what I mean.
ReplyDeleteWhat a tale!
ReplyDeleteRe what Lapin said:
ReplyDeleteI'm also thinking of the case of the husband of former Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor. As I understand it, one of the reasons that she retired when she did, was to care for her husband (w/ Alzheimers). About a year or so ago, she told the world that, while he was in a care center, he'd fallen in love w/ another patient there, and that they had become a couple.
She's resigned to the situation, but still, it's sad.
JCF, I did not know that. That is another sad story.
ReplyDeleteJCF and Mimi -- actually I think it is NOT sad. A gift from God actually -- odd, but God gives odd gifts.
ReplyDeleteOMG --the strength or folly of that daughter! TWO parents with dementia in her house..... what a task. ....what heart.
ReplyDeleteSusanKay, you don't think it's sad for Sandra Day O'Connor?
ReplyDeleteIt was the late-in-life divorce part of the story that caught me emotionally.
ReplyDeleteFor most of my childhood my parents seemed bitterly unhappy. I know they frequently discussed divorcing, though they never did, I suppose, because of "the children." As they sulked and stormed through the house, drank and slammed doors, this child often wished they were divorced.
However, when all four children finally left the house, my parents seemed to rediscover their affection for each other. When my father developed lung cancer, my mother devoted nursed him for five long years. When he died, she was utterly inconsolable. Even today, ten years later, she grieves for him each day.
Marriages are weird things.
Grandmere, I'm taking care of my mother who is now at the stage of what they call moderate Alzheimer's. She can dress herself and so forth, but she gets terribly confused and angry and melancholy almost continuously, and I'm the one who must make sure that the meals are made, the doctors are seen when they need to be, etc. She hasn't forgotten my father (they were divorced when I was 14), but she's forever angry at him. (Not all of that is the Alzheimer's; she's never stopped being angry at him from the time they divorced onwards.) And since we don't have a thousand dollars a week for a companion (the going rate around here), I do it all at home, and hope for the best while I'm at work. She'll be eighty this Friday.
ReplyDeleteBut please believe me, there is nothing sweet about Alzheimer's.
And by the way, memory loss and confusion is not actually the first sign of the disease; but it can't be diagnosed until the disease progresses that far. By the time they stick the name on you, you're already well on the road. The actual first stage is a lessening of mental qualities and a intensification of personality traits. It is said that Doris Lessing's last novel displayed much simpler grammar and vocabulary because it was written before she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's, during the stage when the disease's effects first manifest. For instance, my mother was always somewhat anxious and complaining; she gradually became more and more anxious and complaining over little things. A person who is given to anger may display anger more intensely and more often, and less reasonably than before; a person who jokes a lot will seem to find humor more often, but the quality of the jokes may seem to be lower than they used to be. My mother was officially diagnosed roughly five years ago, but looking back I can say she was exhibiting the initial signs at least fifteen years ago, almost immediately after she retired.
Kishnevi, I offer you my abject apologies for seeming to make light of Alzheimer's. That was not my intention. What I meant by sweet was that the couple loved each other once again. Love is always sweet, even when it's folks with Alzheimer's who love each other.
ReplyDeleteI've never lived with or cared for a person with Alzheimer's. I admire you greatly for caring for your mother. I know that it must be difficult. Alzheimer's a dreadful disease. To watch the deterioration of someone you love must be painful in the extreme. I'm sorry if I offended you. I offer you my prayers for strength and peace as you continue to care for your mother.
John Bassett, your childhood sounds somewhat like mine. I longed for my parents to separate and end the battles followed by days of angry silence. I very much wanted to be away from my alcoholic father. They separated a few times, but always got back together, until we all grew up and left home. Then they separated and never lived together again, but they never divorced.
ReplyDeleteI'm glad that your parents' story had a happy ending until your father died.
Another perspective:
ReplyDeleteAbout 10-12 years ago, there was a documentary by a woman about her mother w/ Alzheimers.
The filmmaker was a lesbian, and her mother had never been too happy about that fact...
...before the disease took hold. The more she forgot, the more she forgot her prejudices!
I remember one shot: as the daughter was focusing the camera, the mother was urging her daughter's partner (who she seemed to know, as such) get in the picture w/ her.
The last scene of the mother (in a care home) was her saying to the world in general (as well as the camera) "I AM AMAZING!", w/ a huge smile on her face (she didn't know her own name anymore, but she knew she was happy).
I'm really sorry for your (probably more typical) case, Kishnevi---but there is variation possible in the disease.
Mimi -- I think there is much sadness for Sandra Day O'Connor in her husband's Alzheimers disease. I watched the devastating effect that my father's disease had on my mother. The disease very sad -- seeing your love find some modicum of happiness -- not sad -- or maybe sad/sweet
ReplyDeleteJCF and Susan, to experience joy and love in the midst of suffering from a miserable affliction, is, indeed, a blessing, however it comes.
ReplyDeleteGrandmere, I know you didn't intend to make light of Alzheimer's. And you didn't offend me. But for those of us caught up in the daily reality, there's not much sweetness and light about it: and the degree of losing memories this story implies (just think a moment what it would take for you to lose every recognizable memory of Grandpere) is rather unbearable. Will my mother live long enough that she won't remember me--her only child, the boy she's doted on for the last half century? I just pray that I never find out the answer to that.
ReplyDeleteThe only sweet thing I can find in all of this is the knowledge that I'm really just doing for her what she used to do for me, unquestioningly (albeit not always uncomplainingly) when I was a child.
Kishnevi, you are strong and brave. I'm in awe of your courage.
ReplyDelete