Alzheimer's has knocked upon my door

I wished more than anything that I had been wrong, but I wasn't. I knew too much, but not nearly enough.

As my dad-in-law interacted with the geriatric team last week, my heart ached with every answer he uttered, and my brain quietly tallied his correct and incorrect responses. It took every reserve of energy within me to not jump up and shout, "You know this! C'mon, Pepaw! Get with the program! Prove me wrong!"

Please, please, prove me wrong …

Alzheimer's has knocked upon my door.

I had to let the diagnosis soak in, that Pepaw has Alzheimer's. I had to invite my husband Roger to lunch to tell him the results in person. I hated just saying, "Yes, it's Alzheimer's," over the phone. He knew the answer before he even scooted into the passenger seat of my car. Why else would I make that invitation on this particular day? We talked about it over lunch while it rained outside. Only once did he wipe his eyes and say, "Now, don't make me cry …"

Thankfully we smiled. It was all we could do. I think it was a smile of relief, that we had an answer, that we could prepare for the next question.

Of course, we'll likely never get THE answer to THE question: why?

Yes, Alzheimer's has knocked upon my door … my brain … my heart … my soul.

Everything I've witnessed and learned about Alzheimer's … everything I've written and presented to audiences about coping with this horrific disease … I have to believe it was God's way of preparing me for this day, this news, this journey.

I'm right here with you, Pepaw, ready to be your caregiver, a steady arm when you need it, a pair of eyes willing to look deep within yours when we speak … ready to be the girl you've always called Monty …

Ready to be your memory … no matter how hard Alzheimer's pounds upon our door.