I can hear the chirping of the birds in the trees. They are in the distance, but the sound fills every corner, every tree, every blade of grass, every petal, every drop of dew, that sits in the fields where I stand. I look around and all I can see are slope after slope of hills. Little villages are clustered in the valleys that dot the whole area around me. Birds of prey dance through the sky above, hovering and then diving for their prey. It is a wonder to see, a wonder to hear. I imagine the deer behind the trees, afraid to step out in case I see them, yet I know they are there. Cows and sheep graze in the distance. Horses gallop down the hill as they make their way to the stables. Farmers sit on their tractors working the fields. It is picture perfect. It is my happy place. Peace, silence, beauty. This is our world. This is the world I love to live in.  Far away from noise, danger, anger, fear. A world of kindness, welcoming hands, love, smiles and friendship.

Modern life bulldozes our dreams and demands our attention, our time, our whole day. Social media blinds us and robs us of the time we can spend in my painting above. Yet, we let ourselves be washed down this rapid river, this current, dragging us over sharp boulders, rough ground and the exit to the vast sea of nothing. An empty sea, where fish barely survive because of our selfish ways of existence. We try to grasp a branch to safety, but the velocity is too much, and we cannot hold back, we must let go. Or so we believe.

Yet, this gorgeous world remains. The quietness, the tranquillity, the stillness. They are there, inviting us, waiting for us. Our heart shuffles our feet towards, our soul yearns. Our mind pulls away. Why, why?

As I turn towards, I take another glimpse, maybe my last. My heart races with excitement as it is filled with the soft sound of chirping. And then, it starts to slip away. I know I am losing you, my happy place, my beautiful world. My feet will not turn, my body will not turn. Help me, please. I want to stay. Yet, the scene is disappearing, I am losing you, I can barely see you anymore…just one last try, one last push as I try to reach out. My arms do not move, my feet keep walking. I am losing, I am losing, I am trying…but you are gone. The last moment, the last glance. My eyes are totally clouded. I cannot see you anymore. I …I …have lost you.

As my feet keep walking, the grass turns to concrete and the chirping turns to noise, to the whirring of the engines, the blaring of horns, the shrills of voices, the clanging, clinking, screeching, and my head is thrown into shock.

And now I ask, what is the world of dementia. When a person sinks deep into this go to place, what does he see? And a person without dementia, what does he see? Are these worlds the same? Are they entangled into one? Are they pieces of a jigsaw? Are they a dense concoction of life’s experiences?

I really would like to think that a person with dementia walks up those slopes of green, of serenity and calm, of sheer wonder. I hope that their go to place is inside that photo that fills my memories and my life. My happy place, their happy place. I pray …and I hope.

This is surreal. I am floating somewhere in the air. I do not know where I am. I do not know what is happening. Yet, it is so beautiful here. There is silence, there is peace. The air is moving me gently through a stream high above, but I do not hear a sound. I feel so light, so calm, so free. I am detached from all that is below, far from the chaos, the noise, the voices, the screaming, screeching of tyres, fears, anger, tears, hatred…I am free.

I often wonder if that is how you felt in your dementia, if your life was a world so different to this one. Was it? How? Please explain. If it was, then I too want to be part of it. I too want to float in the air, away from this world. Take me with you and let me be part of this heaven on earth. Take me far from here so I can be with you.

We fear dementia so much. I fear dementia so much. Dementia took away the lives of my grandfather, his daughter, and my dearest mother. It gnawed at their memory, their consciousness, their recollection, their remembrance, and everything to do with the past, their whole life before today. Dementia consumed their brain and devoured their entire self without mercy. This is how our world sees it.

Was it so harsh? How did mum see it? Tell me mum?

I believe it hushed the commotion, the turbulence, the pandemonium, the turmoil and the madhouse we call our world. I believe it took you away to an orb we know nothing about. A place which is muted, muffled and quiet, a place where there is no tomorrow, where there is no yesterday, where you can hear a pin drop, a place with no expression, no communication, noiseless, a place to nowhere…no, a place to somewhere.

Explain it to me mum. I want to know more. I want to understand and see through that stare, that expressionless gaze. I want to know where you go. I want to feel and comprehend. Take me with you to this sanctuary, to this abode. Is it a hole in the darkness or is it a window to light?

Take me where you are going so, I too may see, and I may accompany you through this passage and direction you are headed for.

Let me understand so that I may quiet the fears of so many, of my own self. Let me realize that it is just a transition to the eternal life we call heaven. Let me believe that the end of life is but the beginning and what awaits us is incredible happiness, where there is no hunger, no ire, no hurt, no pain, no greed, no despair, no unease, no distress. Yes, take me there so I may see for myself.

Wow is it hot this week!

I think back to all our summers from as far as I can remember, till the last summer we spent together before you moved to a Care Home.

Up early to cook in order to get to Sliema by 9am was important to me, to my children and most of all, to you, Mum and Dad. Parking was always an issue near the Swimming club, but who cared!

The freshness, relief and total bliss of the sea was worth every imaginable sacrifice.  The sea is the best destresser in the world…as you let your body float and dip your hair in the cool water, all your troubles literally wash away.

As a child, I never wanted to leave the water. My children were exactly the same…and now my grandchildren too. You showed us the love of the sea, and we passed it on to the next generations.

We started our first summer in the sea and so did you Mum, Dad. The smiles, the happiness, the banter, laughter, we are truly blessed to have nature’s gift around us.

45 years being part of the swimming club was a big part of our lives and we had lots of friends to share this happiness with. And it was the last thing we did, hours before we took you to the Care Home. From swimming in the sea, to the main pool and then to the baby pool, it did not matter at all, as long as we saw and felt your happiness as you glided through the water when you could, and then stood up in shallow water when you couldn’t. You truly loved it, and it was and is one of the biggest obstacles that came in the way of your happiness when we could not take you anymore.

The Care Home had a pool but you weren’t allowed to swim when you became incontinent so that was short lived. You had to watch others until you just turned away in disappointment. It was no one’s fault of course, it is just the way your life snatched you away, slowly but surely.

As climate change makes summers much hotter, we do need to look after ourselves and our loved ones. However, we should never deprive others from this gift, either because we cannot make the time, or we do not feel like. I say to you, make the effort, for an effort it may be, but the reward is much greater. Do not deprive your loved ones of these moments of happiness because life has a way of taking them away before you know it.

Mum, your happiness, smiles and laughter are etched in my mind, and I think of you so much as I dip into the water of life. I hear your sounds of joy and feel your delight as you frolicked in the sea. My smile joins yours and the happy memories are a treasure to me today. 

What does it take to take your loved ones to enjoy the simple pleasures of life? We get so caught up in work, housework, shopping, of course we do. Yet, somehow, we forget that life is for living. When did it become a crime to leave the house undusted, or the shopping to be done on another day, or a work text unanswered after office hours?

Bring a smile to your loved one’s face…that is what matters most.

I have this vivid memory of a boy who was bullied at the swimming club where my family and I swam every summer. Every time he tried to swim, these boys would duck him repeatedly and stand on his shoulders as they pushed him under. He would come up to the surface gasping for air, only to be ducked again. This childhood memory appears in my thoughts every now and then, which is very upsetting. Please do not ask more details as to where the parents of all those children were or how long this lasted, as I do not remember. These unsettling incidents remain imprinted in a child’s mind, and you can only bury them but never forget them.

Very often, I type my questions on the computer to see what the internet says about them. Do we not all rely so much on this other ‘brain’? All too often, we ‘memorise’ what it says and believe it all, actually affecting the way we think for ourselves. This happens most especially when I have some ailment or other and want to know more. However, in this case, I will not be tempted. If bad thoughts come to mind, then I will just push them away and not dwell on them.

Yet bad thoughts do come to mind, especially when you look dementia in the face. You jump straight to tomorrow before facing today. We advise that you must be prepared and know what is coming, but you do have to live today and not tomorrow. Bottom line is we drown ourselves in thought.

In Maltese we have an expression that tells you to open your door wide when bad things happen concurrently. We tend to face several unfortunate experiences all at once…why?

Two years after my mother succumbed to her dementia, my father was really struggling with heart disease. He had several heart attacks before and after mum’s death yet the medication he was on really worked and was keeping him alive. In January 2015, I had a planned ankle operation that required a 3-month recovery at home. I went ahead with the operation, despite the circumstances as it was now or never for me. Dad was living with us by then, so I had company at home.  Unfortunately, a couple of weeks later, Dad was hospitalised, and the consultant told us that he didn’t have long to live. He kept him in hospital for a couple of weeks and Francis, my husband, used to visit him every morning, after he would have helped me get ready for the day. It was a very tough time for Francis as he had to work as well. One early morning, at 5.30am to be exact, Dad called us to say that he almost died. As he told me this, I was devastated. Stuck at home with this horrible plaster on my foot, unable to walk, unable to visit him, was very unpleasant. Dad was really upset and agitated so Francis got out of bed and went straight to the hospital. I rang the consultant later that day and he acknowledged what happened. Dad really was on the verge of death that morning. The Consultant asked if I would take him back home at the same time as I asked him to discharge him. I wanted Dad home to spend his last days with us, not stuck in a hospital bed all alone. Dad came home that afternoon.

During this whole time, my brothers were coming and going to Malta on a very regular basis. Martin from Australia and Anton from UK. When I say this whole time, I mean from before mum’s passing in 2012. A case of ‘so far yet so close’ to reverse the expression.

On hearing that Dad was really at the end, Anton booked a flight for him, his wife and daughter (Katie is a nurse) and came over. Katie and Anton spent the last few nights with him, taking it in turns to keep watch. I was just a couple of rooms away.

On the night of the 24^{th of} January, Francis got a telephone call from his mother that his father was rushed to hospital. He went straight to hospital while I settled to sleep. At 2am, the front door opened, and Anton walked into my room (he was staying at a hotel nearby while Katie was with Dad this particular night). He told me that it was all over, and Dad had gone. I was in shock but stumbled out of bed to be by his side. We turned on the lights and all just looked at him. As we were calling Martin in Australia to let him know, the front door opened again and Francis walked in from the hospital, only to find all the lights on and us around Dad. It was 2.15am on Saturday 25^th January 2014.

Although in these moments you want life to just stop, life is just relentless. As we arranged for the funeral, Francis visited his father, and the situation was under control. Dad was not buried straight away because we waited for Martin to come over. On Sunday, Francis was happy as his father seemed to be on the mend. As Dad was taken away from the flat, Francis’ mum moved in with us until his dad returned home. Fast forward to Monday 27^th January. Francis’ mum and I were sitting on the sofa watching TV when Francis called me from the hospital with shocking news. His Dad had died. What??? I looked at his mum and just could not believe what had just hit us, and what was coming to this most wonderful mother-in-law of mine. I said nothing to her and waited for the family to arrive. Francis, his brother and sister, stood in front of her and gave her the news. It was a very sad moment and a great shock to her.

So just two days after Dad died, Francis’ dad died too. Have you ever felt you were drowning? Well, we did that day.

Burying both our dads in the same week was not what we ever hoped for. Yes, life is relentless. Life makes you feel like you are drowning. Life throws everything at you at the same time. Why? I will not ask the internet why. I will just accept that this is life and yes, sometimes you feel like you are drowning. But …you know…somehow you climb back up…you come up to the surface..until the next ducking…is that fair? Is it fair that there is no cure for dementia? Is it fair that mum had to suffer? Is it fair? Never ask that question. Life is what it is. You must accept it.

A new life..a new baby has been born! What joy! Nothing can describe the feeling when you bond with your flesh and blood. Adopted..oh, so so special. When people adopt or foster children they have a place in heaven in my book. You are giving life to a child who has little in the world …that is pure happiness!

In the usual scenario, parents shower their children with their immense love for them and do their best to give them all they need, and all they themselves did not have. There are many sad cases, but I will not dwell on them here.

Let us think back to our childhood, from the days we can remember to now. There must be many memories you hold on to that give you that heartening feeling inside. The laughter, excitement, joy, elation, amusement, warmth, and most importantly, experiencing that feeling of safety.

When a child falls and hurts, he or she cries and runs to the mother or father’s arms..a scene we see so often, and which we should ponder over more and inhale the strong emotions of fear from one side and protection on the other. It is an intense moment.

Let us now reverse the situation.

A person with dementia suddenly finds himself/herself pushed into a room, 4 walls, a blank space. This room is white with no window and has one door. A door that cannot be opened from the inside. Yet, that door has a handle..and that handle can be turned by you. You? The spouse, sibling, relative, friend..whoever you are.

Let us talk about you. The ‘you’ who is so important to a person with dementia. You may not bother, have too much to do, are offended because the person with dementia does not recognise you, or you are the one who lives abroad and is remembered the least.

I ask you now to push all that aside. Cast those thoughts out, smash that armour around your hardened heart and let go. Remember your childhood and that love and protection you received and allow all those emotions to come flooding back. Release your heart and your soul from ill thoughts, from sadness, anger and all that is clouding your mind and heart. Pick up that photo album and go down a journey.

‘Hurry. Hurry’ I say to you. Do not waste another moment. Do not allow yourself to think anymore. Just go. Go to the place your mother, father, spouse, brother, sister, cousin, friend, is waiting. Yes, waiting just for you. Today may be your last opportunity.

Give that person all they need, all that you would wish for, and all that they gave you. Rekindle those memories of safety and protection in their arms by reaching out your hand this time. Give them the safety and protection that they gave you, and that they need so much now. ‘Inhale the strong emotions of fear from one side and protection on the other’. Put your head on their shoulders and shed your tears, cry with them, laugh with them. Reassure them, put your arms around them, even if you never did. Were you close to your father? Perhaps you never had any relationship with him. Now is a good time to start. Hold him tightly and let him feel the love emanating from your heart.

You may be thinking I am writing a romantic story, or some ridiculous scenario, one that is seen only in films. Well, to tell you the truth, I am not. I have experienced it myself and, you know, I hang on to that memory now and will always do so. It is what keeps me going. It is what gives me the solace, the energy to move on.

When a family member dies, we are, most often, left with emptiness. However, this emptiness can change to satisfaction, to relief, and most of all, to peace of mind. That peace that allows you to close your eyes at night and slip into beautiful memories of the life you had together. This is more precious than any money or possessions you may ever have. What are coins and notes when your house is empty, and your heart is barren? What is a beautiful house if it is not a home?

There is no shame in telling your parents or your children that you love them.

Think about what I am saying but do not think for long…just go. Turn that handle and fill that windowless room with light and love.

Living is a beautiful thing. We are surrounded by nature, greenery, chirping birds, animals, the sky, stars, the sun, and the moon, and most of all, by people. All these aspects are very important in our lives, and we were created by God to be amongst them. ‘No man is an island’ is a sonnet that was written way back in 1624 by famous poet John Donne. Here is an extract:

No man is an island,

Entire of itself;

Every man is a piece of the continent, 

A part of the main.

Yet, why is it that some people prefer to be all alone and lock themselves up in their own world? Several reasons come to mind, many pretty sad. However, we are placed on this earth to live it and not exist. One must never judge another person’s troubles and decisions but instead encourage and give hope to the other. Sometimes, one feels safer at home, within the confines of those four walls, not having to speak, not having to prove oneself, not facing embarrassments or awkward situations. I know that a person with dementia will feel this way and, if given the chance, will choose to stay home and not want to leave.

Yet, life is short, and whether we have dementia, are crippled with disabilities, have cancer or some other unpleasant illness, or are simply depressed, we must make that effort to turn the key and open the door. Otherwise, one may realise that life has passed by, and no one can turn their clock back. Turn that key before it is too late.

The first stages of dementia are very frightening for the person living with it. However, as it starts to set in firmly, that person enters a different world. A world where anger, fear and happiness are quickly forgotten. Yes, both good and bad, both pros and cons, are not lasting memories anymore. They still feel all we do, but also forget more quickly than we do. They are ‘protected’ in the four walls of that same dementia where the key doesn’t turn, and no one can leave or enter. If only dementia were as important as covid was to the pharmaceutical companies, to governments, where they would invest the time and money to find a cure, a solution. Until then, we must live our lives as best as we can, each and every day. We must treasure each moment for no moment is bad. An unpleasant thought, happening or experience is there to teach us to be better people, to take care of what we say next time, holding our speech before we are sure that our words will not hurt the other. Yet are we willing to change? Are we willing to live in a better way, to be a better person? Some do and others may follow a different path. Until another experience comes along and one hopes that their attention is caught, and they plunge into the effort of change.

Yes, life is for the living. The world is so beautiful …we just have to see it. Walking along a city road shows us lots of traffic and noise. Yet in that traffic, there are people sitting in their cars, the hustle and bustle of the day is being played out in front of us, the moving of crates in a shop, the ins and outs of customers, the bus collecting and depositing passengers…so many many scenes…just stand back and watch.

And what of the countryside? Oh, it is superb. Look at God’s creations..every species of insect, bird, animal, colour, sound. Open your eyes and see what lies before you. Enjoy the beauty of your surroundings, whether you are in Maltese countryside, or in another Country. It is still so serene, so precious. Listen to the rain drops on the leaves, the pitter patter of snow on the ground, the whistle of the wind in the trees, the clap of thunder in the sky…all so amazingly beautiful.

Yes, life is for living. To you who has dementia, do not despair. God loves you and will soften the blow. Let Him take you wherever He may go, let Him lead your path to that place He chooses. Do not fight nature but take its hand and walk. He walks beside you and you are never alone. Live your life, in whatever form it is, for one day it will end, and you do not want to miss a moment, any moment, each moment. Open the door to your life and feel the air against your face and take the first step. It may be your last.

‘Hello, I hope you do not mind me calling you, but I have dementia’.

That struck me hard and I stopped all that I was doing and waited for the next words. ‘Please help me as I do not know how to solve my problem. I used to be able to fix this and do that..I was really good at what I did and many reached out to me because I was the only person able to do this..’ I listened and tried really hard to help you, making a huge effort not to show my cracked tone of voice, because, yes, you broke my heart. You knew so well that there was no cure and I had to comfort you..I had to try really hard. How? For me, there are a few solutions, but the one greatest solution I have is to resort to prayer. Maybe, some of you do not agree, but for me, asking God to help us is what we really can do. ‘ Ask Mary to give you peace in your heart and the ability to face each and every day. I too will pray for you’. This person is older than me and I asked if religion was part of life and the answer was yes so I went ahead.

So what if this person is an atheist? Well, I will still talk about prayer because that is one thing that no one can take away from me and the solace I find in prayer is nowhere else to be found.

Oh, how many times I have tried to find peace of mind through people, yet I always come to a brick wall. Facing dementia is like facing a tsunami coming straight at you. How can you avoid it?

You cannot. You have to embrace it and go with it. Ha ha, says the expert. Not in the least and I hope I will never know what it is like. However, having faced illness myself I can say that my only true solace was leaving everything in the hands of God.

Mum went through this tsunami and lost everything she had physically, mentally. Yet, her inner heart remained there and when I held her hand and said the rosary with her in her last three days, she lay there in peace, looking at me calmly. I prayed so much for her to find that peace and I know for certain that God granted this for me, for her. She walked the passion of the Lord, she walked the hill of Golgotha, and she walked suffering and pain. And so too does this person over the phone. How can you tell a drowning person that everything is going to be alright? No, you cannot and it is not fair to do so. What you can do is ask for peace to enter that person’s heart and calm the fears and severe anxiety. A person with dementia becomes isolated and alone and only God can enter his or her heart – no one else can do that.

I rediscovered this after a brief stay in hospital during Holy Week. Choking on a bone, I could only look at Jesus on the Cross and ask for help. Was death at my door? Yes, it would have been if it weren’t for the excellent doctors in the ENT ward. I asked myself ‘is this it? Am I going to die now, right now?’ I hung on tight to my husband, but he couldnt do anything..but yes he could and he did. He prayed, I prayed and others prayed. Yet, at the end of the day, it was Jesus on the Cross who held me and gave me hope. So too, those with dementia. Leave it all in the hands of God. Death is to be feared. Yet, death is the start of eternal life. Going over that threshold is terrifying and only He knows when it is time. It wasnt my time yet…but my mother had to face that time. This person on the phone also has to face that time.

Yes, it can be very, very lonely in that place.