living (thinking) from your heart

[image found via weheartit]

StoryCorps has always been one of my favorite Podcasts from NPR. Not only do I firmly believe the truth of their tagline, "Every voice matters" but I think that everyone has a story and every story should have a platform to be told. Some of my greatest memories in life thus far have been listening to the stories of my grandparents and how they lived way before I came along. 

Listening to this podcast I was particularly touched and needed to share it with you all. It features Bob Patterson and his wife Karen and was recorded in Los Angeles in partnership with the memory loss initiative. Bob was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2008 and Karen has been by his side as his partner and caretaker every step of the way. Bob speaks here about how the disease has changed him. 

"Bob: I feel like I’m the same person but I know that I’m kind of a big load to deal with (laughing).

Karen: You know how we talk sometimes about who we really are, what is our essence. Memories are not who you are.

Bob: Well, I…I think, one thing that I experience with Alzheimer’s is I live in the moment cause I, can’t remember what happened yesterday. I can’t remember what happened 10 minutes ago. But I’m much more present I think.

Karen: Do you think about the future?

Bob: I know that there is probably a bad time that comes in the future. This disease gets more wicked. But, I don’t obsess on it and I just do a nice job of ignoring it.

Karen: With this disease you’ve moved from somebody that lived in their head a lot to somebody that lives in your heart.

Bob: The head is an overstated organ (chuckles along with Karen).  The heart is where all the action is.  And I can remember things that occur in my heart much better than things that occur in my head…having fun with the kids, laughing, our new grandchild.

Karen: Speaking of this new grandchild; is there something that you’d like him to know?

Bob: (getting choked up) I would like him to know that I feel in love with him the first time I saw him in the hospital (voice very weak).  And every time I see that sweet little face, just makes me feel good. I’m looking forward to, uh, hanging with him and teaching him things that I think are really important.  That’s my job for the rest of my life.

Karen: I don’t know if you even remember this but once we were listening to a book on tape and it talked about the greatest thing you could do if you loved somebody was hope that you (getting choked up) would be the one that was left. And that you would be the one, that could care for your lover. You are not alone. And I’m honored that I’m the one that could care for you (spoken through tears). I always will.

Bob: You always have (spoken through tears). Thank you."

The love that these two share is more than apparent and I loved listening to how they related to each other but also how they see the disease. I love that her perspective is that it is not memories that make you who you are, it is your essence. I love that his perspective is that the disease allows him to be more in the moment and to live from his heart and not his head. 

perspective granted

I've been following Matt Logelin and his amazing story for years and years now. I watched (via his blog) as this little baby girl...

turned into this precious little girl...

Each step of the way I've loved his story, his view on it, and the way he writes so honest and true about the good times and the pain. (His book was on this list and read on this vacation.) As Matt waited quietly and cautiously for Maddy to ask the hard questions about her mommy, where she was, and why, the rest of us trudged along. Last night, I went out to pick up some Thai food for us. While I was waiting I picked up my phone and went to his blog to read. I found the post below. I caught me off guard in a major way and put my life instantly back into perspective. I whipped tears away as I waited for my chicken satay and thought how good life really is and how lucky we are to have people we love in our lives. 

*If you are bothered by the f-word you might not want to read his blog. The post below contains a few of them itself but I think they are all justified. 

"questions.

they came today,

a torrent of them,

an attempt to

make sense of

your little world,

combining the things

we talk about

every day in an

(almost)

4 year

old’s level of comprehension.

while digging your

spoon into a bowl of

(what i learned from grandpa tom g. a few nights ago)

was your mom’s

favorite cereal.

“daddy, why did mommy want to buy this house?”

i was surprised. this

is not a question

you’ve asked before.

“she wanted you to have a yard to play in and she loved all of the trees and plants. especially the lemon and grapefruit trees.”

“oh. i love you, daddy. can i have some orange juice, please?”

then you asked

a bunch

of questions about

how grandmas can

also be moms.

then in the car…

“daddy, what did you and mommy do for fun?”

again, not a question

i’ve heard from

you before.

i told you about

our travels, our nights

with friends, everything

i could think

of before the next

question interrupted me…

“why was my mommy in the hospital?”

i told you

why she

was there, and how

her only care

in the world was

getting you

out safely.

as much as the

previous questions

took me by surprise,

the next one took

the wind out of me.

“daddy, did you hold my mommy’s hand when she died?”

fuck.

as i tried to

breath and to

figure out how

to answer that one

(how do i explain to you at this point in your life that i was rushed out of the room so the doctors and nurses could work on you mom, and that it was impossible for me to hold her hand until after she had already died?).

i started bawling,

impossible to hide

my tears from you.

i did my best

to explain it to you,

but what i said

will never take

away what happened that day.

i looked in

my mirror to see

you reaching for me.

i reached back for

you, my hand now

in yours,

you rubbing my hand

the way i rubbed your

mom’s

that day

(and many before it).

“daddy, i love you.”

you knew i

needed that.

“i love you too, maddy.”

sometimes i forget

how mature you are,

and how you understand

and comprehend more

than i think you do.

“you know, you can ask me anything about your mommy, and you can talk about her anytime, right?”

“yeah. daddy. i know.”

and as i worried

about how i’d fucked up

your day by crying

you said,

“daddy. oliver is not on my imagination team anymore.”

and i just laughed.

“it’s not funny, daddy!”

you yelled back at me.

and no, it’s not,

but it was.

and i’m sorry i didn’t

ask why he was

no longer on your team,

or what the fuck

an imagination team

actually is."