Friends are friends forever…?

You know that moment when you’re in a crowded public space and you catch a glimpse of an old friend you haven’t seen in awhile across the room? She doesn’t see you, so you quickly wind your way through the crowd to where she is until you are face-to-face. She bursts into a smile and you practically leap into her arms, pulling her into a bear hug! It’s been so incredibly long since you’ve seen her and you are elated! 

I watched that play out today at the ceilidh at the Antigonish Museum. And it was heart breaking.

I’ve said this a million times before, but when someone gets dementia, their world immediately becomes small. Family who choose to not deal with it disappear. Friends who’ve shared your ups and downs your entire life poof, never to be seen or heard from again. Most neighbours stop popping in. And you’re alone at the most vulnerable time of your life. 

How frightening must that be…at a time when everything else is changing around you. 

Playing out alongside of that abandonment is the isolation of whoever has to take responsibility for your care. Maybe it’s a spouse who has never had to take care of household things before who is lost and scared and no longer has their spouse to count on? Maybe it’s a child who slowly loses their freedom, their friends, in their attempt to step in to help – with cleaning and meals and personal care and trying to fill the space of those who’ve disappeared. 

But along the way there are the bright lights. In my Mom’s case, she has a lifelong best friend in her cousin Joan. She lives in Winnipeg but makes sure to check in regularly. When she comes east, she visits and takes Mom out. She’s on the phone with her as often as she can be, sharing old stories and memories and creating new ones at the same time. She’s become a lifeline for me too in the midst of it all. The one family member who seems to understand not just Mom’s situation but Dad’s and ours too. She knows the toll this is taking on Mom. But she also knows the toll it is taking on Dad and us. Just knowing she’s an email or a phone call away has been a literal life line. Thank God for Joan. 

I know how difficult it is to have a loved one with dementia. It must be hard for her family and friends to have known her as this fierce, force of nature her entire life…to now see her so child like and needing so much help. One of her friends, Meg, was her faithful companion through everything Gaelic! Mom’s father had the Gaelic, as they say and Mom could understand a bit but, in her 60s, went on a mission to learn the language with her friend Meg. They started out in community classes and worked their way up to St.F.X. immersion classes and weekends at the Gaelic college. She and Meg became such good friends. They started rug hooking together and spent countless times at the house, at Meg’s cottage and everything and everywhere in between. Thank God for Meg.

When Mom’s dementia progressed, Meg would take her for drives and take her for lunch. Until it got to the point where that was more and more difficult. Dementia robs people of so much. 

Today, Meg saw Mom across a crowded room and was so excited to see her…momentarily forgetting that this disease has ravaged her friend’s brain. All she saw was her old friend…as they embraced in the middle of the crowd, I watched both their faces. Meg’s full of joy at seeing Mom. Mom’s filled with happiness too, recognizing Meg as someone she loves but unable to fully place her. I had to look away, otherwise I’d be bawling in the middle of a ceilidh at the museum!! 

I, too, was seeing people I hadn’t seen in forever. Since covid, we’ve all been laying low. It was so incredibly nice to see loved ones from days gone by. But i kept replaying the scene with Meg & my Mom in my mind. I’m sure that just for a moment, in the midst of that embrace, Meg was hoping Josie of today was the same Josie who she’d laughed with and played with and shared a season of life with. And how heartbreaking, all over again, to remember; to really remember, that that Josie no longer exists. It’s a devastating goodbye all over again. 

What an amazing reminder to let your loved ones know you love them. To let your friends know you appreciate them. To spend time with your family and just cherish the experience of being with them. 

But also, if you know someone who has dementia or who’s life has been affected by dementia, please reach out. I know it’s the norm to disappear. But please don’t be the norm. Be the lifeline. Be the friend who is so excited to see them that she jumps in your arms and gives you a bear hug. Stop asking families experiencing dementia what they need…they don’t want to burden you with their problems…so just dive in and love them and be there…at all the stages. 

My favourite youth group song was Michael W. Smith’s Friends are Friends Forever. Seems appropriate to end with a quote from him: 

Friends are friends forever If the Lord’s the Lord of them. And a friend will not say never ’cause the welcome will not end. Though it’s hard to let you go, In the Father’s hands we know that a lifetime’s not too long to live as friends.