There we sat, auntie Joy and I. Perched on a sunny veranda, with the orange and yellow hues painting a canvas of colour around us. The play of light and shadow would bounce to and fro against her round cheeks as she smiled. I felt such a sense of love, of contentment in these moments. Auntie Joy was holding within her layered hands a source of such admiration. It seemed that life was spilling out of the lifeless as I watched her cradle and caress, comfort and care for a child.
Not long ago, we found this inanimate doll, robbed of life and purpose alongside the street. We picked her up and dusted her off, we gave her a good wash and so did she morph. We took her in and gave her warmth, the carers on duty helped Joy make clothes from wool; a tiny pair of socks, a beautiful dress, a display of colour and even a knit cap. Surely, this very moment was bathed in memory, in awareness.
For perhaps we have been mistaken…
In that moment, the moment when I saw her eyes peer deeply into mine. I have been mistaken. It is not the memories that we are after, it’s the awareness. She tilted her head back and bellowed as she laughed a deep laugh. The kind that seemed to abandon all sense of worry and doubt. This is it. This is all that matters. Not who she was, where she came from or how she got here. We have dressed her up and washed her clean. She was no longer lost. Perhaps it was I who was lost. Perhaps in so eagerly seeking that which she was, I perpetually failed to see that which she is. She is alive! Her awareness brings colour to the skies and breath to the wind. She is what centuries of writers, sculptors, painters and artists abound have sought after. She is the life within each blade of grass as her feet confirm this, she brings warmth to the Earth and warmth to my heart. She is not an inanimate doll, she is a lady who loves to dance. And as she weaves her awareness from death to birth, it is I… I who has realised that life is not a memory and need not be remembered. Life is a fleeing moment, one that can only be captured and held, with awareness and admiration.
And so I played with Auntie Joy and her awareness as she complimented her smile and soft cheeks, even if more than once. She taught me that we are not who we think we are, for this has been assembled in the past, no, we are this moment reborn. Cleansed and caressed by the comfort of our mother who has no name.
Wow! What a tremendous piece of writing – most thought provoking. Thank you Joe.
Loved it
From the family a big thank you for letting her find joy and a reason to live again.
My mom of 81years is also an Alzheimer sufferer and I’m her care giver. My mom and dad was still so much in love and they did everything together then dad suddenly died two years ago. It was only then that we discovered the forgetfulness and quietness had a name. She cant remember when dad died or what happened that day. She cries every night and fall asleep with dad on her lips when she wake -up its dad ,whatever she eats dad loved it too. I love my mom so much and I cry so many tears when I see the hurt of missing dad in her eyes. I wish I can just make it better.
My moeder wat n lyer is, het my pa se mondfluitjie ontdek, en loop nou heeldag en speel deuntjies dat die spoeg spat. Almal, ons kinders en personeel by die tehuis is stomgeslaan. NOOIT sou ons dit verwag het nie. Dit verskaf haar baie plesier… Dis asof my pa wat al geruime tyd oorlede is, deur haar werk. My ma het nooit in haar lewe musiek gespeel nie, maar dit waardeur, want my pa was n groot musikant?!
Lovely!
Hanlie, dis kosbaar ne, daar is nie n dag wat ek nie die genadegeskenke wat God my gee deur hierdie mense en siekte, werklik geniet en waardeer nie. Deur dieo te gaan, kom die goud en silwer van liefde en omgee en leef deur. Nie volgens ons standaarde nie, maar nuut en anders.
I love this idea! Appreciate and enjoy the person as she is.
Very informative….Thanks
Oh dis my ouma. Sy so n wonderlike mens, nou sit ek met trane in my oë want wil nooit eendag permanent vir haar bye se nie. Dankie vir Jure Care wat so mooi na haar kyk.