“Precious memories, unseen angels, sent from somewhere to my soul …”

So goes an old hymn by JBF Wright. He wrote these lyrics as he grieved the loss of his child, praising God for the gift of memories.

And memories are a gift, even the bad ones. We have all lost loved ones that we miss. Memories are important facets of our relationships with them; they are all we have until our earthly eyes close for the last time. As a child I fought to keep memories of my mother alive - her voice, her skin, her smile. I can replay these beautiful synapse-charged moments to this day. It’s part of who I am. What if those went away?

That’s the big reason Alzheimer’s and other diseases that cause dementia and cognitive loss concern me so much. The thought of anyone loosing their personal, precious memories - the names and faces of those they love, their private secrets and their inner knowing, the lessons learned and talents honed - crushes me. It hurts my heart for them and for everyone who loves them.

My adoring, brilliant grandfather was a surgeon and healer. Despite that, he died from a disease process related to his vascular health, grief, and alcohol abuse. But, we lost him years before his death because the most profound symptom of his disease was dementia. My grandmother was his care partner, his unpaid nurse, and his staunch advocate. The experience was scary and difficult for him and excruciating for her. She amazed me by living a long life after his passing, thankfully with no cognitive loss (unless you count a couple of temporary UTI-induced delirium moments - a story for another time!)

Fortunately, there is a lot we can do to care for our brains and there seem to be brain-health discoveries almost daily. Personally, I try to take good care of my cognitive and bodily health through my lifestyle choices, and while I hope my actions will prevent or lessen diseases that might cause dementia, I have no guarantees. There are always going to be unknowns and I’ve seen Alzheimer’s, strokes, Parkinson’s, and many other serious diseases hit healthy, happy people. While I do fear dementia, for myself and for everyone I love, I have developed faith that if it happens, my family is strong and we will do our best. God will be in our corner - this I’ve seen for dementia families MANY times - and honestly, the experience won’t last forever, even though it will feel like it does. (My grandfather’s cognitive loss started in his early 60s and he died at 68. I know those six or so years felt like a 100 years to my grandmother.)

In my youth I was superstitious, especially about hope. It came from traumatic loss, but I guess age and faith combined have helped me embrace positive expectations. Staying in a hopeful place cannot hurt our chances regarding our health, in fact, living a hope-filled life might even help. A long-term study of nearly 13,000 older adults found that people with higher levels of hope tended to experience better physical health, stronger emotional wellbeing, less psychological distress, and healthier social relationships. In short, hope isn’t just a feeling, it’s connected to meaningful improvements in our health.

Surely the unseen angels - the memories - are not really lost. I have to hope and I try to believe they are not. My grandmother told us our grandfather had not forgotten us. She said, “Pico remembers you in his heart but his sickness is keeping his mind from reaching that far. You have to hold the memory for him now.”

I like to imagine God wrangling our angel-memories into his arms and keeping them safe for us if there ever comes a time we can’t reach that far. Why wouldn’t he?

HUMAN-WRITTEN ESSAY

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