An amazing woman
You left home very early. You left your family, your friends to settle in the city, first a room, then your apartment. You were living with a roommate but you were already planning to live differently. You welcomed the sixties with open arms. I, sometimes, imagine you, sitting in the grass, with a flowery dress, singing the chorus of “Yesterday” or swaying to the rhythms of Jimi Hendrix.
You took advantage of those years to become an independent woman, a woman who would not follow the beaten path, but would create her own. Your loved ones were getting married but it wasn’t for you. You hadn’t found the perfect man or you didn’t want to sacrifice your independence. I favour the second solution. From romances, to serious affairs, to true love, you have always fiercely guarded your independence.
Girl of your era, you must have heard the comments. Sometimes, the judgements made you cry, but you knew that it was impossible for you to fit into the mould.
You’ve lived your whole life like this, ignoring conventions. I met you, when you were retired and we liked each other straight away. I admired your courage, your generosity, your kindness.
You lived a quiet retirement, between your patchwork, your cats and above all, your great love. He fell ill, he recovered, but never completely. Little by little, he changed, diminished, then one day he was no longer there.
His death was your descent into hell. You couldn’t imagine continuing without him. In your sadness, you lost all access to the light. Perhaps that’s when things started to change. A disorder, a sneaky disease that gradually damaged your brain: Alzheimer’s. At first, you didn’t really realize it. We all forget an appointment, lose our keys, or no longer remember what day it is.
Slowly, you recovered from your grief, you were happy again. You laughed, you walked, you pampered your cats, but the illness was growing.
Every day the past became more present. Every day the present became foggier. You realized it and you knew what was happening. Your mother had the same illness. You rebelled; the slightest aggravation made you angry. You told yourself that if you refused to accept the illness, it would not have the upper hand.
Your doctor suggested that you move to a home. You were suspicious, you didn’t trust her. You refused. We saw that things were getting more and more difficult for you and we tried to find solutions that you would like. We didn’t do better. Sometimes, your independent spirit rebelled and you broke things, screamed, howled your despair.
Simple things, you no longer understood. You didn’t remember the days that passed, you could forget to feed yourself, wash yourself, dress yourself or feed your beloved cats. Things were getting more and more confusing. You were suspicious of everyone, the first time a social lady came to your house, you kicked her out of your apartment. Independent, as you have been all your life, you refused help.
Your new doctor enrolled you in a home. You still didn’t want to go. You didn’t understand why yxou were being forced to go. One day, while walking, you fell and had to be hospitalized.
You lost all your bearings. You didn’t know how long you had been there. All you knew was that you wanted to go home. The doctors refused. They said that you could no longer support yourself, that you would stay in the hospital until they found a place for you. You tried to run away. You were brought back to hospital. You tried to convince your loved ones to release you; for your own good, they refused. You charmed the hospital staff and as soon as they turned their backs, you escaped.
One day, while walking through the corridors, you found a staircase, went up and sat on the roof. For the hospital, it was the last straw. You were transferred elsewhere.
We came to see you. It was horrible. The evaluation room looked like an asylum room from the 1950s. You were angry; we were in tears.
For us, as for you, everything happened too quickly. The descent was too brutal. We realized, too late, the nightmare that your daily life had become. We didn’t know things could deteriorate so quickly. We were just as distraught as you. We are sincerely sorry that you had to experience this.
Luckily, today, you live in a nicer place. You seem calmer, more serene. You have found new friends.
Sweetheart, if little by little, your memory frays and you no longer know who you are, we remember. We remember your little laugh, your generosity, the love you showered on your family, your courage, and, above all, everything that makes you an amazing woman.
Delwyn Dupuis
9, Rue du Carre
CH-1174 Montherod
Email : delwyn.dupuis@gmail.com
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