I attended the candlelight ceremony at the Alzheimer's Association office to remember those who had passed away from this horrible disease and to comfort those who still battle it. I took a candle, encircled by purple paper to protect my hand from dripping wax, and listened to the lyrics of a song about the pain created by Alzheimer's, the loss of companionship and all the things that make a loved one so special to us. I also focused on a poem read by a caregiver about missing the everyday joys.
As the staff lit our candles, I listened to the names of those who had passed away in the last year, some I knew, most I didn't, yet knew they left a unique circle of grieving family and friends behind. After staring into the glow of my candle for several moments, I gazed around the room. I observed …
The arm wrapped around a loved one in comfort.
The shaking shoulders of a man who wept silently over the loss of the love of his life.
The woman who sniffled and wiped her eyes as she remembered her late husband.
And the couple who sat in front of me.
The wife has Alzheimer's. From my seat, I could only see her face, but she looked into her husband's eyes with such intensity, and then their foreheads gently rested against each other, to give comfort, strength and love as his arm wrapped tightly around her. They lightly kissed and whispered something I did not, nor attempt to, hear because the love, fear and uncertainty in her face spoke far more volumes to me than any words.
I'll forever remember that kiss in the candlelight … an indelible reminder of how precious and powerful love can be. Sometimes it's the only prescription for this damn disease as we continue to pray for a cure and end to its cruelty … please God, open our human eyes, hands and minds to find the means to beat this NOW!
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