Sad or a relief?

Music therapy has long been touted as something very beneficial to dementia patients whether it's listening to their favorite songs from their youth to, in Glen Campbell's case, playing it for as long as humanly possible.  A factor that according to Glen's doctors, allowed him to plateau in the degradation of his faculties far longer than most patients with mild to moderate dementia.  This seems like such a small thing in the grand scheme of things but it literally costs nothing if you already have the songs on hand and a device on which to play them.  If you don't, believe me when I tell you that you will regret it when the decline comes faster than you could've imagined because you didn't do something as simple as have them listen to music every day.

When the news came of Glen's passing, I saw a flood of social media posts with sad faces, RIP's or even some who obviously didn't know what he had said: "He looked good until the end."  As someone with the most important family member to her suffering from dementia, the first thing I said out loud when I read that was "aww, Glen Campbell died...thank God...he's free."

It's a sentiment that is echoed by many not only going through dementia/Alzheimer's but those who have witnessed a family member or friend go through any devastating disease that has robbed them of who they are.  The kind of disease that is so powerful and alters them so much at the end that unfortunately for those in the thick of their lives becomes the more dominant memory of them.  This is part of the reason, I believe, that my grandma told me not to visit her anymore if she didn't know me.  This disease terrified her to the point of such absolute denial that nothing about it could be spoken because acknowledging it meant our current situation was her fate.  I understand her fear...it is a fear I now live with every time I find myself searching for a word or wondering why I walked into a room.  It's the stuff of memes for most middle agers and the stuff of terror for those who may have a family disposition.

(Stuff like this used to make me laugh....now?  Not so much.)

You get to a point in a disease where it kills you to see the person suffering, even if in our case, they may not know they are suffering.  I hope that the disease does truly take away her entire awareness of all things she knew before.  Because the thing that wakes me up sobbing at night is thinking she's trapped inside herself, fully aware of what's going on and never able to communicate it.  Imagine that for a moment...knowing you're in pain and can't ask for medicine, knowing you have to go to the bathroom but can't tell anyone, knowing you're hungry but can't ask anyone for food.  Imagine seeing the faces of your family and not knowing them but your heart knows they're important but don't know why... and what does important mean?

Worst. Disease. Ever.

So yes, when I hear of someone like Glen or a friend's grandma who recently passed away from this, the first thing I think of is relief.  (Which was echoed by my friend)  Relief for the person suffering who is fully restored in their new life and feels all of the love they didn't recognize in the end.  Relief for the family who is likely irrevocably changed in ways they didn't expect and may not be able to find their way back before the glue of their family passed.  Of course, we don't want the person gone. You love them.  They are a huge part of your life and maybe even who you are and you can't imagine your life without them.  But there comes a time in health situations where peace for the person becomes the prayer at night and you make peace that your mutual love for each other transcends their ailing physical body being here and suffering.

It is spoken in hushed tones if ever spoken at all, with an immediate shame but comes from a place of deep, intense love.  While it sounds horrifying to some, that reaction shows that they have not been touched by a disease that does something that horrible to someone and you almost feel envious of their naivety.  You wouldn't wish them knowing what point you have to get to with a loved one to type those words.  So "judge not..." and all that jazz.

While I know Glen's family or maybe even yours if you're suffering from a recent death relating to dementia, is going through an immense sadness,  it is important to not feel guilty if you feel some relief.  It in no way says that you wished them dead!  It says they meant enough to you to wish them peace and to wish their suffering come to an end.  Remember the good times, the laughter and the things that made them uniquely them.  (My grandma had a few words she always mispronounced no matter how many times we tried to correct her.  We all would look at each other and try not to laugh. We weren't laughing at her but it was so cute that you couldn't help but smile.)

They would want us to remember them for the life they lived, not the way they died.

Have you ever felt relief over the passing of a loved one?  (Yes, pets count if you haven't gone through disease with a person.)


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