The Transition of my Beloved

 Peggy Trojan

 

  
David and Peggy Trojan

By Peggy Trojan

These poems convey the transition of my late husband 
and myself from his diagnosis of Lewy Body dementia
to his eventual death in 2020. 

Death Do Us Part

When we were young and eager
we promised to stay together until death.
We could not imagine a disease
called Lewy Body dementia would
over years destroy everything.

First forgetting facts, dates,
names, where you were going,
movies, books, conversation,
how to play the piano, then flying,
driving.

And now the devastating loss
of balance. You fall
over and over, inside,
outside, even holding the deck rail.
You say, “I feel lost.”
I answer, “Me, too.”


First Night

I leave you at Memory Care.
Trust a bevy of staffers
in their twenties
to cope with your waking,
your walking, your falling,
your dreaming.
Tonight we sleep alone.
I miss your hand
reaching for me in the dark.


Together

We transfer you
into the small apartment
I had rented on the river,
filled with furniture
and art from home.
Every item familiar.
Daughter Mary moves in.

You nap on the couch,
your head on my shoulder.
We are happy, hold hands
like young lovers.
Presence heals us.
When I kiss you,
we smile.


Simple Joys

On the balcony
with sun and birds,
you are more talkative.
“This is a new heaven.”
Your sense of humor is back,
you thank us for our efforts.
“Mary, you’re a peach.”
We watch Packers, Brewers,
fishing, Planet Earth.
“I saw this one before.”
Listen to Brahms and Beethoven.
Share daily photos with family.

We wheel you
on downtown river walks.
You wave at kayakers
from the bridge,
greet dogs we pass,
eat takeout in the park.
Find our way to Olson’s for a cone.
“Strawberry, of course.”

One day from across the living room
you announce,
“Peggy, I’m still nuts about you!”
Four months,
every day a gift.


Destination

You died as you lived.
No complaints, no demands.
Quietly at home
with Mary and me,
whispering my name.
Kids phoned goodbye,
We held hands.
Focused, ready for adventure,
eyes open to see
where you are going.


River
 For David

Stay on the river now,
it will lead you to the sea.
Someday, I will meet you there
with all those we have loved.

 Listen, can you hear?
 The river is singing.

All poems published in River, 2020.