These last seven years – the active dementia claimed years – he was the best version of the man. The old, contrary, obstinate, cantankerous Steve was replaced by a man who would wish you a Happy Christmas every day of the year; a man who would smile and laugh and take delight…absolute, giddy delight in simplicity. A man who was in touch with his feelings and emotions and one who could express feelings unlike the 35 years prior. He was more of a husband yet so much more a child these last 7 years.

Gone were the resentments, the bitterness, the grudges…his girlfriend. Replaced by memories made in their time together, no seepage of young love-birds brief (and face it, meaningless) time together – infantile time together. Laughter, silliness, hopes, dreams of a renewed marriage experience…perhaps? then, reality he had slipped, and was slipping and would soon be down the other side of the mountain – unable to be rescued. No fixing this even though “fixing” is what she does. How can I make it better, she would ask? What can I do, what would benefit you?

Then, the unthinkable happened: his DNR order having been ignored and an incomplete…nay, non-existent…hospital admittance and multiple resuscitation’s performed resulted in brain damage which resulted in two facility placements within four months and not only plummeting off dementia cliff, but bent and broken, unrecoverable in the depths.

“Luck of the draw,” he would say. About any situation in which he was the patsy, the wronged. Army medic at age 18 – luck of the draw. The guy proceeding him stayed stateside, he went to Vietnam. Poisoned by Agent Orange resulting in early onset dementia…luck of the draw. Still, he would say Luck of the Draw…if not me then someone else who couldn’t have endured or passed that test.

I wonder if he feels lucky now? He’s onto his next adventure. Finally free of a mind that had escaped him and let him down. A body that had worn out; eyes that could not see or ears that did not comprehend even short utterances. That draw sent him Home. Sent him upward, sent him flying…and, she hopes, laughing, joking, standing straight and tall, not afraid to place his feet. Not afraid of anything. She hopes his Uncle was there to greet him. She hopes he said, “We’ve been waiting for you. Ever since she begged Mary; standing at her feet with candles all about – to ‘Take your little boy home.'” She has prayed fervently for him to hear the words, “We’ve been expecting you. Let’s go play some music.”

Bet it sounds like, You Are My Sunshine!