Some moments with this disease are just plain tough. And you never know when those moments of realization are going to hit. They might even happen when you’re in the lobby of the car mechanic’s waiting on an oil change and tire rotation. You just never know.
Eventually, we walked into the bathroom to find some tissue so Mitzi could blow her nose and wipe her eyes. As soon as we walked in, she sawthe wall and went right over to these pictures, standing there quietly for a moment before reading both of them out loud (a bit of a feat because reading more than one line is hard for her anymore, and rarely have I seen her read cursive at all in nearly 2 years). She then turned around to me with tears in her eyes, repeating the words, “Everything will be okay.” She dissolved into big old crocodile tears that poured from some new well of reassurance she had as I gave her a big hug.
I stood there, in the bathroom of a Tire/Auto Mechanic place, hugging my 57-year-old friend who has Alzheimer’s Disease, marveling at the love from the God who would know we needed to be at that exact spot on a hard day for her, just so she could read that particular sign hanging on the wall.
