You people! It means so much to know there are ears and hearts that hear when the tree falls in the forest. Again and again I'm urged by those farther down this caregiver's road than I am, to not be afraid to ask for help. Having readers who know where I'm from, so to speak, and who are there to lean on--even while not in physical space together--is a blessing and a privilege that gives me both comfort and hope I need right now. Thank you. Truly. I will add to the "Lonesome Highway" marriage-and-mental-health travelogue from time to time, knowing you care.
I have read your writings for a long time but only recently respond. You are very brave to share some of this journey with us, and although I am a caregiver to an elderly mother, I do not face the exact challenges. I am not a writer, but when I suddenly faced my world without my husband, I wrote regularly…short bursts of anger…loss and loneliness. Then, I met others in my sad world. We shared, prayed and commiserated…it has eased my fears and loneliness. Yes, write..everyday….and share when you feel it. Aging, the complication, responsibilities …like walking on a boulder strewn path. I have learned to relish every moment that I can feel worry free. We are here…listening…write every day…share only when you feel it…and relish those few moments.
I've followed you for years, Fred, and loved your stories and observations. Reading "in between the lines" of your recent posts, I suspected you were in the midst of this challenge. It is a difficult journey for the both of you, and the rest of your family, but there will be gifts in it too. Thank you and Anne for so courageously sharing this.
"The Currents that Carry Us Places we Don't Want to Go" - Even the title to this post suggests that a poet penned those words.
It is not easy to witness the slow atrophy of a beloved one's memory, and it is especially difficult on the caregiver. We all hold you and your wife in our hearts as you navigate this difficult journey - and share it with us.
You are also showing by example the many ways to dodge the negative impacts by finding positive outlets. Interacting with others - in person or via your writings - or learning new skills - or taking quiet Timeouts in Nature. The caregiver also deserves nurturing.
Thank you for this post, Fred. For years I have struggled with how much of my inner life to share in my public writing. There is transgenerational trauma in my ancestry that has left heavy boot prints on the family. In most cases I have found a supportive universe of readers, and I am certain that you will as well. The comments below are likely only a small segment of your readers who will resonate with these posts, regardless of how well conceived and choreographed they spin out. I'm going out on a limb here and saying that as your story and journey unfold, you will find these people and their words intensely gratifying and perhaps even clarifying. You are a brave soul, and this is is how the universe rewards the thousand faces of courage.
I am feeling more sure of the way forward, and trust each next step will appear as they are needed. Yep, the dance can go way off the rails, but I've learned how to jump back on the tracks a few times too. Thanks Tom, for being along for this leg of the journey.
Hi Fred! We have ALWAYS enjoyed your posts. And your books. From your nature writings which drew us to live in these mountains over 25 years ago - to your recent heartfelt sharing of getting older. You are always an inspiration to us. A reminder that we are in this world together. From the tiniest flower to the birds, bees and trees. And especially the friends we make along the way. Keep on sharing. You are part of the glue that keeps us together!
Oh Jane! I could see your smiling face, beaming good wishes across several states. I am happy we still see the same sun. Keep energizing your part of the world. Hug the pups. And scratch Ken's ears for me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Thank you for sharing, Fred. I was a caregiver for my husband for over three years, and while he didn’t have memory issues, he had profound physical problems. I know how hard it is……and I wish you well in the coming years. One step at a time. I am happy that you are in a place where you can get the help you both need. And I’m happy that you will keep writing!
I know for certain we are nearing the point where I can't keep the ship afloat alone. Readers are closer than my local neighbors who have not known my voice and story through the writing since 2002. Kinda like family.
Like much of your writing, Fred, I am sure there is wisdom in all of this. My own experience is limited to that of the dementia of my father and that relationship, which is wholly different from what you and your family are living with. My hope is that Ann knows and feels your love and care. I will read what you can write with openness and I hope that your camera, binoculars, and notepad find some time in the present as well.
Sean, it has been a pleasant (tainted by geographic distance) to watch your family grow. Thank you for your continuing friendship going back to -- what year? I can't remember if I was still teaching at RU. What year did you get the IT job with Floyd County Schools?
Heya Fred - we moved to Blacksburg in 2004 and started work in Floyd in 2005. Fragments is how I found you and you graciously had me and Sara up to Goose Creek for soup and bread and a walk one afternoon. I have such fond memories of being at your place when we lived there… and yes, you were teaching at RU back then.
I remember bread and soup and a remarkable resonance with interesting young folk with whom I somehow crossed paths and those paths stayed connected for a lifetime. Funny how things work out. I have been abundantly blessed by the friends and conversations and ideas gained by strangers met through the writing over the decades. I hope and trust that connection will go on a little longer.
Then you have some idea of my difficulty in telling this story. I have some fear that if I don't write about this, I will not be able to write about anything else. So very much of my headspace is consumed with holding the ship together--including my own mental health that is more and more at jeopardy of coming apart. Thanks for being there.
Thank you, Fred, for sharing. At 78 (husband) and 75 (me), we could certainly face this in the future. My mother had some sort of dementia. And when my short-term memory skips or I say a word that's not the one I meant, it crosses my mind that I could be heading that way. Considering all the other things to worry about right now, it's not a big concern, but I will read all you share with interest and gratitude.
You people! It means so much to know there are ears and hearts that hear when the tree falls in the forest. Again and again I'm urged by those farther down this caregiver's road than I am, to not be afraid to ask for help. Having readers who know where I'm from, so to speak, and who are there to lean on--even while not in physical space together--is a blessing and a privilege that gives me both comfort and hope I need right now. Thank you. Truly. I will add to the "Lonesome Highway" marriage-and-mental-health travelogue from time to time, knowing you care.
I have read your writings for a long time but only recently respond. You are very brave to share some of this journey with us, and although I am a caregiver to an elderly mother, I do not face the exact challenges. I am not a writer, but when I suddenly faced my world without my husband, I wrote regularly…short bursts of anger…loss and loneliness. Then, I met others in my sad world. We shared, prayed and commiserated…it has eased my fears and loneliness. Yes, write..everyday….and share when you feel it. Aging, the complication, responsibilities …like walking on a boulder strewn path. I have learned to relish every moment that I can feel worry free. We are here…listening…write every day…share only when you feel it…and relish those few moments.
I've followed you for years, Fred, and loved your stories and observations. Reading "in between the lines" of your recent posts, I suspected you were in the midst of this challenge. It is a difficult journey for the both of you, and the rest of your family, but there will be gifts in it too. Thank you and Anne for so courageously sharing this.
"The Currents that Carry Us Places we Don't Want to Go" - Even the title to this post suggests that a poet penned those words.
It is not easy to witness the slow atrophy of a beloved one's memory, and it is especially difficult on the caregiver. We all hold you and your wife in our hearts as you navigate this difficult journey - and share it with us.
You are also showing by example the many ways to dodge the negative impacts by finding positive outlets. Interacting with others - in person or via your writings - or learning new skills - or taking quiet Timeouts in Nature. The caregiver also deserves nurturing.
Thank you for this post, Fred. For years I have struggled with how much of my inner life to share in my public writing. There is transgenerational trauma in my ancestry that has left heavy boot prints on the family. In most cases I have found a supportive universe of readers, and I am certain that you will as well. The comments below are likely only a small segment of your readers who will resonate with these posts, regardless of how well conceived and choreographed they spin out. I'm going out on a limb here and saying that as your story and journey unfold, you will find these people and their words intensely gratifying and perhaps even clarifying. You are a brave soul, and this is is how the universe rewards the thousand faces of courage.
I am feeling more sure of the way forward, and trust each next step will appear as they are needed. Yep, the dance can go way off the rails, but I've learned how to jump back on the tracks a few times too. Thanks Tom, for being along for this leg of the journey.
I cared for my father during his last year of Alzheimer’s. I will help in any way I can. None of us are prepared for something like this.
Hi Fred! We have ALWAYS enjoyed your posts. And your books. From your nature writings which drew us to live in these mountains over 25 years ago - to your recent heartfelt sharing of getting older. You are always an inspiration to us. A reminder that we are in this world together. From the tiniest flower to the birds, bees and trees. And especially the friends we make along the way. Keep on sharing. You are part of the glue that keeps us together!
Oh Jane! I could see your smiling face, beaming good wishes across several states. I am happy we still see the same sun. Keep energizing your part of the world. Hug the pups. And scratch Ken's ears for me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I am listening. I am grateful you will show the way you take and from that give opportunity for readers to learn, to understand, and to be understood.
Thank you for sharing, Fred. I was a caregiver for my husband for over three years, and while he didn’t have memory issues, he had profound physical problems. I know how hard it is……and I wish you well in the coming years. One step at a time. I am happy that you are in a place where you can get the help you both need. And I’m happy that you will keep writing!
I know for certain we are nearing the point where I can't keep the ship afloat alone. Readers are closer than my local neighbors who have not known my voice and story through the writing since 2002. Kinda like family.
Thanks for sharing your situation. The picture certainly is a good picture of your situation. I look forward to your posts as you work your way ahead.
I am moved to tears by your post, Fred. I will read everything you write about your challenging journey with Anne.
Like much of your writing, Fred, I am sure there is wisdom in all of this. My own experience is limited to that of the dementia of my father and that relationship, which is wholly different from what you and your family are living with. My hope is that Ann knows and feels your love and care. I will read what you can write with openness and I hope that your camera, binoculars, and notepad find some time in the present as well.
Sean, it has been a pleasant (tainted by geographic distance) to watch your family grow. Thank you for your continuing friendship going back to -- what year? I can't remember if I was still teaching at RU. What year did you get the IT job with Floyd County Schools?
Heya Fred - we moved to Blacksburg in 2004 and started work in Floyd in 2005. Fragments is how I found you and you graciously had me and Sara up to Goose Creek for soup and bread and a walk one afternoon. I have such fond memories of being at your place when we lived there… and yes, you were teaching at RU back then.
I remember bread and soup and a remarkable resonance with interesting young folk with whom I somehow crossed paths and those paths stayed connected for a lifetime. Funny how things work out. I have been abundantly blessed by the friends and conversations and ideas gained by strangers met through the writing over the decades. I hope and trust that connection will go on a little longer.
Our thoughts are with you and Anne, Fred.
I have traveled that road, Fred, and my thoughts are with you and Ann.
Then you have some idea of my difficulty in telling this story. I have some fear that if I don't write about this, I will not be able to write about anything else. So very much of my headspace is consumed with holding the ship together--including my own mental health that is more and more at jeopardy of coming apart. Thanks for being there.
Thank you, Fred, for sharing. At 78 (husband) and 75 (me), we could certainly face this in the future. My mother had some sort of dementia. And when my short-term memory skips or I say a word that's not the one I meant, it crosses my mind that I could be heading that way. Considering all the other things to worry about right now, it's not a big concern, but I will read all you share with interest and gratitude.
Aye, I'm sorry. It is such an agony to watch the slow emergency unfold and be powerless to change its course. And life goes on.