We read a lot about each other's family member with this disease....and the stories sure aren't pretty..so..
tell us some stories about the good times, the fun times...I'll start.
My mother, 84, has a friend she grew up, also 84, who is very close to death now. They still talk on the phone...theirs is a true love story of friendship.
Well, when they were in their early 30's, mom's friend had a husband who ...ahem...ran around...so, mom and her friend set out to do a little investigative work to catch him red handed. They hid in the floor board of the back seat of the big car he drove. Mom's friend was wearing a fur coat..it was winter. He drove off without knowing they were there hiding in the car. He got to his girlfriend's house. She got in and they took off and mom and her friend jumped up yelling and the poor guy ran into a pole he was so scared..he thought the fur coat was a bear! Worse, it was his wife!!
It is a story they still laugh about..thank God they can remember those good times..(good for them, not good for him or the girlfriend... the way they tell it the girlfriend had a large chunk of hair ripped from her head!)
These two vibrant, wacky redheads are nearing their end but they sure have left their stories behind for us to tell til the end of our time.
They were each others towel.
What a wonderful idea! I often remember my Mom as the feisty lady she was way back then.
Mom loved to dance. When she met my Dad, he didn't dance. She said, I will not go out with you until you learn how to dance - so he went to the famous Arthur Murray Dance Studio in NY and took lessons.
They married in 1936 and danced through life together until he died in 1977. They starred on any dance floor. They did complicated old fashioned dances like ''the Peabody" , waltzes, polkas, mazurkas. I loved watching them.
When I was 10, we had a vacation home in the mountains of Washington. Daddy was a successful construction man - money was no object - so we had several homes at a time.
Anyway, this A Frame cabin was built by dad. It was da' bomb, I tell ya. But it was in the mountains, and there is no garbage disposal service, so every week we had to go to the "dump". Y'all remember the "dump"? Great place. Well, dad always took my brother. Every week. For years.
But one Sunday, when I was 10, daddy asked ME to go! MEEEEE!!!!!! Oh my. I could hardly stand it. Time alone with daddy, time to maybe, if I was very lucky, shift the old Ford pickup, time to stop at the general store for an Orange Crush.
And I did get to shift. And I did get an Orange Crush. And just for a short time - maybe an hour - I was the most important thing in my daddy's life.
I am 53 years old. And I will NEVER forget how that felt. Never.
When Mom and Dad were at home I would go spend days with them. My favorite time of the day was late afternoon. Dad and I would sit in the swing and watch whatever Mom decided to do in the yard. He was well into his vascular dementia but I truly enjoyed those conversations.
One afternoon as the sun was setting, Dad and I were swinging away and he got really thoughtful. He ask if I knew that pretty lady over there. I assured him I did. He got very quiet, turned and looked at me so serious. Then he ask..... "I wonder if she would have sex with!" I lost it... I almost fell out of the swing laughing. When I recovered I assured him she probably would if he ask nicely because she was his wife. H very calmly said back to me. Then I did good didn't I!!!
How I loved those late afternoon's in the swing with my Dad
PS... I hope you posted somewhere on here were you have been little deb... I have missed you
What a GREAT idea Meg...now let's see, ok. My DH loved to cook and once I went back to work after the youngest was about 3 1/2, he just took up the slack in our home. He grocery shopped, did laundry or whatever needed to be done. Friday nights at our house were "pizza night" and we would make our own pizzas. Gary would buy bread dough and all the fixins' and we would create pizza masterpieces and gorge ourselves on pizza and pop. As far as dancing goes, he really didn't like to dance either, but put up with me at weddings and never turned me down when I asked him to take a spin out on the floor. In the last month before he passed, there was some music on that prompted to ask him to dance with me in our family room, and once again, he obliged me.
Well, my grandma is all of 95 years old.....and until hit with this illness a few years ago would have kicked her daughter's butts in the "fun" department. She still went to shows, one singer in particular, and was probably his most faithful "groupie" at the ripe old age of 90.
She has 10 children, and 37 grandchildren. I've lost count of the great-grandchildren. But as long as she was able to...she also called me her "one currant bun".....and In Irish terms that just means I am her "favourite".....what an honor that was for me......I know that was also because I always made time for her.....always let her know that I love her, and I will always have that.
She is also very close to my dad despite the fact that when he was dating my mom, my grandma very sneakily took all of his Elvis records to the pawn shop to buy some "dinner"........he was not impressed to say the least but they've laughed about it all these years since.
I miss her.....and I miss her energy for life, the way she used to be. Thanks for getting me to think of these good memories and thoughts....