A few months before my mother’s death, she began to receive visits from my deceased father.
Six years earlier, my father had passed away. When he died, my sisters and I gathered to help our mother and we realized that she could not live on her own. My husband and I had a discussion and, since our children were grown and had families of their own, we decided to welcome my mother into our home.
Within a year, because of her dementia, we realized she needed more help than we could provide. She needed the care and companionship of a good assisted living facility. We found a nurturing facility not far from our home near Madison, Wisconsin.
Through the years that she was in this facility, she received good care. Eventually her mental health declined further and she was moved into hospice for eleven months before her death. I visited her daily after work to make sure she had everything she needed and that she was receiving the proper care. During our visits we would go for a drive or walk the pathways of the care home grounds.
Toward the end of our visit together, she would often ask, “Did I marry? Did I have children?”
With a smile and hug, I would say, “Yes, Mom. You had a wonderful husband and four daughters. I am your daughter. You were a great mom.”
She would then smile and nod, with an assured look in her eyes. “I thought so.”
If I had asked her my father’s name, I’m sure she would not have been able to answer. Even if she didn’t remember my name, she always greeted me warmly as if she had been expecting me.
At the end of a hot summer, a few months before she passed, I entered the facility and began my search for my mother. She could be in any of the living or sitting rooms, drinking coffee in the dining room or lounging in her recliner in her room. As I walked down the hall, I met Jodie, the night-shift nurse. I intended to ask her if my mother had any issues or needs. Instead, Jodie asked a puzzling question.
Her eyes squinted slightly as she questioned, “Was your father’s name Barney?”
My eyes widened. “Yes, how did you know?” His name was Glenn, but Barney was his nickname.
Jodie smiled broadly. “Last night, around midnight, I found your mother wandering the back living room. When I approached her, she told me that Barney had told her that he would be coming for her soon.”
My pulse quickened, but I tried to hide my excitement. So many thoughts and questions bombarded me in that moment.
About four years before his death, my father had made a profession of faith and we had no doubt about his salvation. But here was a confirmation, not only that he was in heaven, but that he would be in the welcoming party to greet Mom as she walked into heaven.
My heart thrilled with this assurance of his salvation and the knowledge that my mother’s suffering would soon be over. However, she lingered in the nether world of late-stage dementia, her mind mostly in the present but sometimes in the distant past. The staff led her through each day as she held on until the Lord would call her home.
As we passed into the second month since Mom’s heavenly visitor, I began to wonder what ‘soon’ meant. I realized that time in heaven was very different from ours.
A few weeks later, I went to visit my mother on a Sunday afternoon. That day I couldn’t find her in the usual spots. I eventually checked her room and found her still in bed.
Kathy, an aide, sat in Mom’s short padded chair. Slapping her leg, she said, “I can’t get this woman to do anything!”
This was a surprise. Kathy was very enthusiastic and able to motivate into action even the more languid residents. Taking a seat beside my mother on the bed, I noticed that she was looking up toward the corner of the ceiling with a rapturous smile on her face. I stroked her hand and greeted her. She shifted her eyes away, but they looked distant and dreamy.
Smiling at the aide, I said, “That’s okay, Kathy. I’ve got this.”
Kathy nodded, stood and left the room. I tried to assist my mother in sitting up and swinging her legs over, but she was unable to perform this simple task. I helped her lie down and she looked upward again. I realized that the time had come. I called my husband and he brought sub sandwiches so we could have supper with her.
Thankfully, the manual from hospice had prepared us for this final stage in Mom’s life, where she detached from this world, eating very little and only sipping liquids. The dying process took three weeks and we would go visit her often. During that time, her speech was partially restored and she was able to visit with all of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
After her death I talked with the other nurses, as well as my sisters. I learned that our Aunt Anna, who had passed away years before, had also appeared to my mother before her death with the same message she’d received from my father. This was a confirmation of Aunt Anna’s salvation. My sisters had also heard that our father had appeared to Mom with the two boys.
“Two boys?” I asked.
My sister nodded. “She had two miscarriages, remember?”
Ah! This was a revelation to me. I have two brothers in heaven that I will meet one day.
The hope of Christ is our eternal life in heaven with Jesus and God, plus with all those who have gone on before. Our separation is only for a time, which will seem short compared to our time together for eternity. I love Don Piper’s quote – “Going to heaven is the greatest family reunion ever.”
The Lord told me that our lives would change dramatically after my mother’s death. Many transitions followed. My husband lost his job and we moved to Iowa so he could begin working for another employer. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t find employment.
During my frustrating job search, an unusual idea began to filter through my mind – that the Lord wanted me to write a book about dementia caregiving. I was reluctant at first. As I began to read every book on dementia caregiving I could find and many research articles on the subject, I discovered answers to my numerous questions. Other caregivers needed to know these caregiving tips and strategies. The process took three years. Slowly the book came together, one chapter at a time. Soliciting the help of friends who read my work and gave me ideas, I completed the project. I also had a great editor, who assisted in polishing my manuscript, perfecting it for publication.
Having my mother live with us after my father passed away was all in God’s plan. He was preparing me to write this book. Seeing her suffer through every stage of this horrible disease was difficult but necessary. Witnessing her heart-rending last week was so hard on the heart. God knew all along the testimony she would radiate each and every day until the Lord came for her. God turned even the sorrows of her dementia into a good thing. I pray that my book ministers to others who are caring for a loved one struggling with dementia.
I am so grateful to know that my mother is safe in heaven and that I will see her again.
Dementia Caregiving from a Biblical Perspective: Your Guide for the Journey was written to guide caregivers in helping their loved ones live well with dementia.
