Anger Happens

 

“Are you angry?”  A lady ambled up to me after a fitness class. I see her working out, but I’ve never met her and don’t know her name.

I’m sure my eyebrows rose at her question. They usually do when I’m surprised. “Am I angry about what,” I asked?

“I know your daughter passed recently, and I see you looking normal. Aren’t you angry about what happened to you?”

“No, I’m not angry. I get sad, and sometimes I’m more depressed than at other times, but I’m not angry.”

The lady began to cry. Tears of sorrow flooded her cheeks faster than she could wipe them away. “I’m so angry that I want to yell and smash something.”

Whoa! I thought. What do I do now? I replied. “I can see you are upset. What caused this rage?”

Between sobs, the woman explained her husband of 50 years had made unwise decisions, and they now they had no money or friends. She went on to tell me he yells at her over and again to “just get over it.”

I said you need a hug, and I gave her one. But what else to say? People who are hurting don’t need platitudes. They need help. Answers. But what can I do to support, and what answers could I give to help?

Our choices affect other people and cause a ripple result. This lady didn’t gamble money away, her husband did, and she now suffers the consequences of his actions.

Bummer? Right?

I never expected to bury a daughter, but I did. We have no control over all our circumstances, but we can choose our actions and thoughts.

The troubled lady thought I looked as though I’m doing well. She can’t see inside my heart, just as I can’t see into hers. But I see hurt on her face. She didn’t see pain on mine. On that day, anyway.

This lady kept saying, “I need to be kind. I need to forgive.”

I replied, “That is a good response. You’re on the right track.”

 Is it easy to forgive and move on?

A big no! Choosing to forgive and acting kind takes work. And it is exhausting. And for hundreds, like me, it’s more draining than not. It is equally hard for this dear lady, too.

I’m not angry with God for taking my daughter. She was so sick! And now she isn’t.

But what if my feet were in this lady’s shoes? I’m guessing I’d be angry at my husband for doing unreasonable things, and I might be angry at God because He allowed it.

I’d be in good company. In the Old Testament, Job and Jonah became angry with God. They also lived to talk about it.

Moses also had his problems with the Almighty.

What did they do to get over it?

Nothing.

God intervened at the proper time.

Did it make them feel good to be angry at God?

Probably.

For a tiny bit of time, anyway.

But when reason took over, these guys realized how merciful God is.

And that humbling fact surpassed everything else.

My friends, I don’t know where you are on your journey. Perhaps you are angry. Depressed. Feeling hopeless. In daily tears.

Emotions are just that. They aren’t facts. And that’s okay. God gave them to us, and they teach us stuff He wants us to know.

Facts are these:  God loves us. He’s merciful beyond measure. He’s with us even when we are angry, and He understands.

As the day darkens into night, so do our circumstances.

Chin up!

Dear one, it will get better. Don’t give up! Wait to see what God has planned for you!

Helpful Hints

1. We are angry at the disease, not the loved one who has it.

2. Ask for help. If no one volunteers, hire someone for a few hours. Go to a movie. Go shopping.

3. If you can afford one, get a massage.

4. Take care of yourself. I know it is easier said than done, but find a way to do it.

Finality

 

Shelley and I took a Bluebonnet Trip. She was in the early stages of Dementia.

Full of life. Bubbly. Fun. She sparkled.

 

At the bank yesterday, I closed Shelley’s account.

I wrote the last check in December 2024. I kept the account open in case of bills came in I needed to pay. I also dreaded another goodbye. There seems to be an unending assortment of them.

I put it off as long as I could. There’s something so final about it. She and I opened the account together, and I have written checks on her behalf for a long time.

The official at the bank wanted explanations. “Did we do something wrong? Why do you wish to close your account?”

“My daughter passed away.”

“My condolences. So, who do you live with now?”

She asked an odd question. What was the lady thinking about?  She wanted to know unnecessary, none-of-your business information.  Perhaps she was confused about who took care of whom. She had my ID in her hands and knew my age. I guess she was thinking my daughter took care of me, and now I was left on my own. People at the facilities where our daughter lived were always confused as to who I am.

 I replied to her unorthodox probe, “My husband.”

And then, feeling the need to explain, I told her we had taken care of our daughter for ten years.

Tears kept gathering in my eyes, but I choked them down while the lady dealt with business and gathered information about me.

Another question she asked. “What did you do before you retired?”

I replied, “I write books, and I continue to write. I write about faith in Christ. Are you a believer?”

I decided to do a little interrogation of my own.

She assured me she is, and then she said, “You look familiar. I must have read your books.”

I highly doubt this, but it was nice to hear.

 This transaction took about an hour, and I left the bank with an overwhelming sense of sadness.

Closing the account was necessary, but am I finished with all things that need to be done? NO, I’m not. I have boxes to go through and items to give to charity. I have pictures to put away. I have stuff I need to send to her children. But all of it is difficult.

Grief is different for everyone. Kinda like snowflakes. Snow in Houston melts fast. A few get over grief like a Houston snowflake. Others live with grief like Canadians do in a blizzard.

I’ve loved our daughter from conception, and I took care of her while she lived inside me near my heart.   I never dreamed she would go to glory before me.

Once, while our daughter could still speak, she clasped her hands in front of her, and said, “I need to tell you something. Thank you for taking care of me.”

She was grateful, and if it had been me instead of her, she would have done the same for me or her dad or her sisters.

Tips for Caregivers

1. Do as much as you can to make final arrangements in advance.

2. If you need to close an account, can you do so without a death certificate?

3. Talk to your banker and ask questions.

4. Talk to your facility, or funeral director and ask questions.

 

Dementia Is a Thief!

 Dementia Is an Ugly, Creepy Thief!

 

Dementia robs a person of his or her mind, and then it takes the body.  It may take years, or perhaps a lucky person endures the robber for only a few months.

The thief stayed with our daughter for over ten years. He crept in  a few years earlier, but we didn’t notice him. It didn’t matter. We couldn't prevent his entrance. Even when I saw him stealing from our daughter, I couldn’t shoot him, arrest him, or shoo him away. I deterred him as long as I could. No matter what I did, Dementia is a bandit. He came slowly and never left. 

He mocked me as I prayed and tried to stop him from destroying our daughter.

I failed. He took her.

Here's the bottom line!

He sometimes looks normal, but he's evil.

Dementia robbed me, too!

And not just of our daughter.

I was tied down for ten years. I worried. I prayed. I visited. I met with facility admins and doctors. I stayed in the hospital with her many times when she was admitted.  I paid bills. I was consumed with responsibility.

Most often, family members and caregivers don’t realize the bandit is devouring them, also. This horrible gangster steals a caregiver’s health, money, energy, emotions, and time.

Health, money, energy, and happy emotions might be regained at some point.

But time is gone forever.

Why can’t solutions be found for Alzheimer’s/Dementia? Researchers are trying, but results are few.

My suggestion for caregivers who live in the midst of a robbery are these:

1. Do what you can to help others.

2.  Share your experiences. If you can, give talks. Write a blog. Take an animal into a facility. Play the piano for the residents in a care facility. Give money. Walk for the cure.

3. Fight the thief. I know the robber will win, but you can feel relief because you fought a good battle.

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