I walked into the room, paused a moment. Where was she? I was looking for my mother-in-law when I saw someone sitting in a wheel chair at a table, ready to eat supper. There was a large blue terrycloth bib firmly attached to her neck to protect her clothing. Her head was slumped, her curly gray hair tousled. Was this Mom? I walked around the table and looked down at her face. Yes, I think this was her. How can things change so rapidly? Three weeks ago, she was sitting up and had a smile on her face as she greeted us, her visitors.

The disease of dementia is changing Marian to a different person. Not someone I know. Only four years ago, I wrote a tribute to her on her 90th birthday. Here’s a portion of it so you can picture her only four years ago:

She’s my mother in law, but I call her Mom. She was there when I married her son, Bill. Was waiting to hear what our firstborn was–a boy. She was  always ready to babysit–and loved both my kids with a passion!

Marian was an athlete and in this day and age, she most likely would have taken her girls’ team to State. Instead, she only was her brother’s catcher who was a professional athlete. She spent countless hours catching his pitches. Then in her fifties, she played catch with my son, her grandson. In her eighties, she played catch with her great grandkids, too.

Marian loved to bake. It was almost an insult to her if you refused one (or multiple) of her  goodies. So, we rarely refused! She was a party girl–she hostessed birthday parties, anniversary celebrations, bar-b-cues and picnics. Christmas Eve dinners at her home. The house was sometimes comfortably large, other times, small but we all squeezed in just fine.

I think Marian would like to mostly be remembered for her faith in Christ. She is the only surviving family member in her immediate family. She’s had to say goodbye to her husband of 59 years, goodbye to her oldest son, goodbye to her sister and brother, yet her faith is still strong and bold…..

Marian here at nearly 90

A sob caught my throat as I realized, yes, this is Marian, the last link to the previous generation. My parents are both gone. My father-in-law, too. And in a sense, Marian isn’t here either. I swallowed my tears—for they were for me. I dislike changes and here was another one coming rapidly on the horizon. Another goodbye.

I shook off my sadness and attended to the now. Who Marian/Mom is at this present time. I got a brush and neatened her hair. As I stroked the back of her gray head, I knew her son, Bill, would be happy I was doing a small something for her.

We sat together for a time, I helped her eat her supper, and then we said goodbye. I’m not sure what she’ll be like the next time I see her. I’m so glad that when she departs from this life to eternity, it won’t be the final goodbye. For I’ll see her again—in heaven—but there’s still a sting in letting go with what was and is now.

Jim and I share a very special date with Marian. She will be ninety-four on our second wedding anniversary, December 7. We look forward to greeting her on our special day and give a cheer for life. And memories. And God’s goodness that we have each other. Hopefully, we will see Marian again in this life. Yet, if we do not, we know we’ll have another reunion–in heaven!

And now, brothers and sisters, I want you to know what will happen to the Christians who have died so you will not be full of sorrow like people who have no hope.
(I Thessalonians 4:13)

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