My Sister’s Quiet Courage

My brother Allen tries to express his needs or thoughts with language, but the words that come are nonsensical. Rather than being distracted by his words, Melanie lovingly supports the warmth in him.

Everything lands on my sister-in-law, Melanie. In the state of Allen’s advanced dementia, she is at the centre of his world, and that of her four pre-teen and teenaged children.

In his confusion Allen sometimes gets agitated, and “Pappa” can be tough for his four children to comprehend. Melanie reminds them, “This is the disease talking, not your Pappa. He would never say these things to us.”

Allen is comfortable relying on Melanie for almost everything, and grateful for her. As she gives him finely diced fish with rice and cucumber “soup” in his favorite bowl, he asks her, “Is this food?”

“Yes. Of course!” she replies.

Allen defaults to gratefulness; he's no longer aware of her name, so exclaims warmly, “Oh, thank-you Mama!”

With his reduced brain power, Allen still tries to make sense of all the changes around him. And Melanie tries to find the humor in it all, joking with him over a strange choice of words.

Rather than correcting him, my dear sister patiently leans into his reality. She’s learned that her direction causes confusion, whereas validating him brings resolution.

To stay sane and centered, to keep from being overburdened with caregiving, Melanie wisely looks after herself. She gardens, fishes for mackerel, and enjoys outings in the country. To express herself, my sister is prolific at producing dance-party videos on Facebook.

Although Melanie works to avoid “caregiver burnout”, the demands caring for her husband are substantial. She’s long counted the cost of having Allen at home.

“What cost?”, she scoffed when I commented she didn't volunteer to be a 24/7 caregiver when marrying Allen.

“What are you talking about, brother? I'm doing fine!”

I look for ways to validate her strength, wanting to alleviate the cost she may not recognize but is still there.

As one of the two brothers from the other side of Canada, Melanie is the essential link to Allen’s life. And compared to my sister’s sacrifices, I live a pretty insular, tightly focused existence, nicely wrapped up in “me and all that's here in Vancouver”.

I'm not sure I could handle what she lives through, having a partner with dementia, parenting four teen kids, and living on very lean government payments. Melanie has the grace, the strength to do what she is doing, and the rest of the Bain family is very thankful.

As I return home from PEI, my brother's random conversations linger in my mind. And feel warmed by my sister's gratitude for the support I can give.

I believe each of us have a strength, not like Melanie's, but moments of grace to give to others.

With that grace we’ve been given, can we stretch to support some quiet, unassuming person who carries burdens heavier than most of us can imagine?

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I would love to connect with you on LinkedIn or Facebook.

See you next week,

Grayson

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