She is lovely still.
Ann Willis has the eyes of a doe, deep brown and innocent. She has aged to her mid-80s as any woman might dream for herself or her mother. Soft gray hair held back by a stretch hair band, loose-fitting clothes covering her lean figure, good walking shoes: She has the bearing of a woman confident of her place in the world.
If only she could remember her place in the world.
I met Ann on the corner of 55th Street and 3rd Avenue in New York. She looked scared and confused. Her caregiver, a sensitive young Hispanic woman named Chandra, was equally distraught. Ann and Chandra were on an errand, picking up flowers for Ann’s daughter. Ann suddenly decided Chandra wanted to kill her. Chandra called the daughter at work, but she could not be bothered.
Kim and I were soon joined by our college daughter, Jillian, who lives on that block. We determined to stay with them until they were safe. I prayed with each separately. We asked them to trust us.
After much coaxing we made it back to Ann’s apartment on Park Avenue, where she has lived for more than 40 years. She expected to find her parents there. Dad was a doctor, Mother a pianist and singer. I asked Ann how old she was. She wasn’t sure, but thought she was a college student at a Quaker school in Pennsylvania. She was hoping to graduate soon.
The doorman welcomed Ann home. She comes out about five times a day, he said. Each time she greets him as if for the first time. She has windows of clarity when she weeps lovingly with Chandra and asks if she has said or done anything hurtful to her.
Alzheimer’s disease afflicts one and affects many. Challenges abound daily without respite. Choices for care excruciate spouses and children. Caregivers feel caught in the middle. Optimism and options slip away with each new mental slide.
The Ann Willises remind us that mind over matter has its limits because mind is made of matter. Soul is a different matter. No matter our mental or physical decline, God knows us each one. And God knows us as soulful creatures in search of bodies that will serve us eternally.
“I believe in the resurrection of the body and the life everlasting,” the creed says. All we are all left with at last is belief – powered by hope, tempered by patience, seasoned by love.
