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I won’t see you with a broken set of eyes… |
| Ryan woke up at 5:30, as the earliest summer light was beginning to turn the sky from black to blue. He sat up on the side of the empty queen bed and let his eyes travel the room. Walls covered in pictures of happier times encircled him. His wife Genevieve smiled down from most of the pictures, along with him and their son Copeland. Those times at the beach, playing hopscotch with sunkissed waves. Times in the mountains of western North Carolina, hanging out by the murals in Asheville or hiking the Appalachian Trail. Fall colors embraced them like warm sweaters in those photos. Even the simple times of birthdays, impulsive selfies and at-home date nights were carefully hung. Genevieve's childhood photos, too, a vast collection… "my mom was a compulsive photographer," she always said with love in her voice. Ryan went to make sure fifteen-year-old Copeland was awake and preparing for his day. "We'll be picking Mom up from the hospital this afternoon," he reminded his son. "That's great! But… do you think she'll remember me? It's been almost a month." "I visit her every day, son. She hasn't forgotten us. The dementia won't be that bad for a while now." "It's not fair that Mom got dementia so young. She's not a grandma yet. Why did she get it?" "No one really knows why. Some people develop it when they're young because of genetics." "I wish I could fix it and make her better again." "I know. But we need to treasure the time we have left, rather than fretting about what is being lost." "But Dad…" the teenager stared at the carpet and shuffled his feet. Then he looked up at his father. "I'm scared about the future. What will become of Mom?" Ryan took a deep breath and hugged his son tightly. "You are the future, Copeland. And the future looks good." It was all he could think of to say. *** "I'm a terrible wife," Genevieve moaned as she sat at the kitchen table with a pile of bills and paperwork. "I can't handle the finances anymore, Ryan. Two payments bounced yesterday—I forgot to add money to the account." "It's okay, love. I'll take care of the money. You just relax." "Relax! That's all I can do. I can't even bake a cake! I can't remember how, and those things, those lists of ingredients and directions, they're so confusing… what are they called?" "Recipes?" "See, I can't even remember simple words anymore. I'm as good as brain dead!" She folded her arms on the table, leaned her head on them and sobbed. Ryan pulled up a chair beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. "Listen to me, honey. I don't care how much you forget about the finances or what you had for breakfast or how to get back home. I will always love you." "I'm useless. I should be euthanized." "No. You can't say that. Copeland needs you to stay strong for him." "I should think he'd be better off without a burden like me," Genevieve sniffled. "I'm not a good mom. I can't function. They even took away my driver's license." "That's a lie. There is still so much you can do. You can sing, and speak, and work in the garden. I will never see you as a burden. I see you as created in the image of God." "I don't see the image of God in the mirror. Your eyes must be broken." "I will never see you with a broken set of eyes." *** It was graduation season. Ryan and Genevieve were sitting in the front row holding hands as valedictorian Copeland made the commencement speech. "Who is that nice young man?" She whispered to Ryan. His heart ached. He had hoped and prayed for her to hold on to her memory long enough to truly appreciate her son's graduation. "That's your son, Copeland. He's graduating with honors." "Aww… and who are you again?" "Your husband, Ryan. Copeland's father." "What a beautiful family I have." Standing at the podium in his cap and gown, the boy began his speech, "I would like first of all to honor my mom, who's sitting up front with Dad. She's been through so much pain these last few years, but she stands strong in her faith and love for us even as she struggles to remember who we are. With Dad's help, she refuses to let dementia take her soul away…" Genevieve pulled in a sharp breath. "Is he speaking about me?" "Yes, my dear." "Oh, how sweet." When it was over, everyone applauded, not only for the valedictorian but also for his family. Genevieve wrapped her arms around her son. "You know what, young man?" There were tears in her eyes as she gazed into his. "You are the future—and the future looks good." *** Night was falling. "Ryan! Where are you? Why is it getting so dark? What's happening?" There was a note of panic in Genevieve's voice. Ryan knew it was what the doctor had called "sundowner syndrome," where anxiety, confusion, and fear of abandonment in dementia patients increases as the sun sets. It tore his heart every evening. "I'm right here, love. I'm not going anywhere. When it starts getting dark, that means it's time for music." He brought out his guitar and sat down next to her. The very first warm, comforting notes of their favorite song made Genevieve relax and smile. Ryan played his heart out. "You know music is the one thing you'll always remember?" He asked. "You played me this song when you proposed." Genevieve pointed out a photo on the wall. "Look, there we are." *** Ryan woke up at 5:30, as the earliest summer light turned the sky from black to blue. He sat up in the empty queen bed, tears filling his eyes as the photos on the wall encircled him with memories of happier times. Copeland smiled down at him from one selfie, holding his admission letter to medical school. Ryan reached out and touched the photo. "You are the future… and the future looks good," he whispered with a quivering smile. Word Count: 1,030. Disclaimer ▼ Lyrics to Future Looks Good ▼ |
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