How does it feel to wake up suddenly one day and realize that you are 80 years old? How could that happen to someone like me who has always felt young, lucky and vibrant? Well, it did, and I am now well into my eighties…in fact, 88 is around the corner early next year. And I am filled with gratitude and a zest for life.

This decade has been filled with joys as well as sorrows. The greatest sadness was my beloved husband’s decline into Alzheimer’s Disease. Within a year after our 2017 move to a beautiful life care retirement facility here in Richmond, John began to show signs of the dreaded illness. Our four adult children spotted it first. I tried to make excuses. 

Enjoying our spacious cottage together lasted just two years before I was urged to move John to the Memory Care unit. He had fallen 15 times in less than 12 months, and his nocturnal efforts to take the car keys and head to the train to NYC for work became too hard for me to handle alone. John was strong, and he was determined. After dislocating his hip for the umpteenth time, and requiring another trip to the ER, John was taken to our health care unit. It was a temporary move.

I remember the phone ringing in the middle of one night, and the nurse saying she couldn’t get him to stay in bed, as he was determined to find me. Of course, I grabbed my bathrobe and ran up to John’s room. By then, he was fast asleep, and the nurse was chastised for calling me.

When released from health care, we told my sweet man that he was going to a “step down” unit. Actually, it was the memory unit, where he lived for over two years before being moved to the critical care unit. Hardly a day passed that I didn’t see him, or that he didn’t beg me to take him home.  

To say those were difficult years is an understatement, but the support from friends, family and staff was incredible. Some days were easier for John, as he loved participating in all musical sing alongs. Much to his delight and mine, too, his resonant baritone voice became the talk of the unit. Everyone loved to hear him sing. And I believe that was God’s way of soothing his soul. For a brilliant man to lose cognitive acuity was beyond sad, but to tap into a latent talent was a blessing.

My John died, mercifully, on August 30, 2023. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him or think about him. But he is at peace, and our children and I were able to say our “goodbyes” along the way. That is truly the joy of a protracted illness. When he died, we could not wish we had done anything differently. 

Writing is my passion. I take every memoir class offered here at our retirement facility…thanks to Charlene for publishing my (second) book Joy of Retirement: Live, Love, and Learn…a few years ago I wrote another one called Finding Joy in Older Age. And now, I am beginning a fourth book called Choosing Joy in Adversity. So exciting, and so inspiring. It is also a wonderful focus as I continue to heal from a shattered ankle last March. Full of pins and plates, but at least my mind is still alive and well!

Since hard times and challenges can beset anyone of any age, I would like to invite interested WAT readers to share their stories. Charlene and I both believe fervently that during this fractured time in our country, we need to concentrate on positives. Hence, let’s share your thoughts about Choosing Joy. Together we will gather stories for an uplifting read. Please contact me at joynevin38@gmail.com if you would like to participate. 

And by all means, please remember the wise words of Henry David Thoreau:
“None are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm!”