My Parents and Alzheimer's Disease

Many days I have my parents on my mind. I love them so much, and I thank God for the precious gift of parents who love Him and who trained me up in the way I should go. I have a few "heroes" in my life. My dad is one at the top of my list. He is a man who has always demonstrated unconditional love for God, family and all people. He is a man who gives and expects nothing in return. He is a man who rarely makes a negative comment, who can find good in anything. Even as my mom has been gradually taken away from us by her progressing Alzheimer's disease, my dad has always found a way to put a positive spin on their situation. He has cared for her and has continued to show his undying love for the woman who is at present but a shell of her former self. Her former self was funny and creative, a woman who always had a special touch that made our house a home. Here is a poem my father wrote that beautifully expresses this "thief" called Alzheimer's disease, and the frustration of watching the one you love gradually being stolen away. Praise God, when we are all together in heaven one day, she -- and all of us -- will be whole, delightfully more so than we have ever known! "If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable...But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ" (I Co 15:19,57)

THE THIEF

Just how and when the thief stepped in
I have no clue, nor do those sleuths
who I've called on to help me solve
the mystery of missing links
that once held cells together in
a mind that served her well back when
she reared a striking family;
created lovely works of art
with yarn and beads and her own skill.
The thief began his devious deeds
by robbing her of knowing how
to get back to our country home
from a short drive to buy some bread.
Too soon he stole from her the place
in which for years she'd kept her "Trix"
and other breakfast cereals.
The robber slipped away with all
the means she had of cooking meals.
In broad daylight the scum would steal
her lipstick, purse, and socks and shoes.
In recent months, he hides the bath,
and sneaks off with the oddest stuff.
He'll dress her in the strangest clothes,
as if to call attention to
a woman who had never wanted
that before the thief stole in.
I think the culprit now has aides
abetting him to lame her frame,
and also tangle up her talk.
Sometimes the thief provokes a sob,
because it's hard for her to know
how precious things could vanish so!
But up to now this evil crook
has not purloined her smile, nor zest
for three or more good meals a day.
If ever I can find this thief,
I'll batter him till he returns
the loot that's left this one so stripped
of almost all that she once was.