Facing up to ‘never’ with a task I would not have anticipated

If one picture tells a thousand words, maybe three pictures can speak a few hundred. Which is to say, I don’t have a lot to write this week, but the pictures will tell about a crossroads I‘m finally navigating. I’m posting this for two reasons: (a) It’s an issue I’ve been fretting about for weeks, and (b) someday, when I go back and reread this chronicle, today’s post will remind me of the time I finally quit talking and took action.

The issue is Evelyn’s clothes. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve given away armloads to family members and friends, but quite a bunch remained: wrong-sized or out-of-style or dressy dresses and skirts and tops.

Partners

This weekend I took the first step toward giving away almost all the rest of it. Our friend Wendy came for a visit, and I asked her to help me. I knew I’d finish the task if I had a partner. After only a little more than an hour Saturday evening, I had pulled the garments out of the closet and Wendy had neatly folded them into large garbage bags, two very full with some overflow in a third.

This left two long lines of empty hangers in the closet. They’re beckoning me to reorganize the space (and get rid of some of my own wrong-sized or out-of-style or dressy shirts and slacks). I’m eager to get at it.

This week another friend is visiting, and I intend to rope him into going with me to the local Dress for Success facility. I could do it alone, but why try that when I can have a buddy beside me? It will be easier, physically and emotionally. I’ll depart with all of it gladly.

Memories

Gladly, but a little sadly, too. So many of those garments brought back memories as I carried them out of the closet to the bedroom where Wendy was folding. I remember where Evelyn wore them, where she bought them, or when I or someone else gave them to her. We could have never imagined that one day, while she was very much alive, she would never need them again.

Never. It’s the task of the Alzheimer’s caregiver to come to terms with never. There are so many situations where the word applies, more than I have the strength or will to enumerate. Perhaps it’s best to deal with them one at a time. It’s easier (although not easy) to say, “She’ll never need this dress again” than to admit, “My life will never be the same again.”

All the difference

I’ve made several half-hearted attempts at facing up to this never. I feel good about finally coming to terms and being at peace with it. Once again, friends have made all the difference.

Another never: I’ll never forget how much they’ve meant to me.