Anticipatory nostalgia


As I contemplate moving J to personal care in a facility on Monday, I find myself thinking, “This is the last time we will …” eat dinner at the kitchen counter with our daughter, watch a ball game together in the TV room, sit together on our patio. My neighbor and her daughter, R, coined an apt phrase before R left for college – anticipatory nostalgia.

So many memories. And the irony that I have no idea what memories J still has six and a half years into our Alzheimer’s journey.

As J’s move nears, I had been a bit of a basket case earlier this week.  I haven’t even begun to pack.  I went to my support group last night and they came through once again.  No judgment.  Just kindness and understanding.  And the following message early this morning:

It also helped that my friend, P, told me she saw me with G-d’s hands on my shoulders while she was praying yesterday morning.  Then I felt the hands on me during my morning run and the words that end the Shema prayer, the central prayer of Judaism, came to me: “I was, I am, I will be.  I am with you always.  In this you can trust.”  So I continue to trust and envision new good times with J in this new phase.

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