The Notebook

 

When we went to the merchandise table before the show,

They were selling little boxes of tissues.

I asked Jes the Doctor if she thought we needed to buy some tissues

But she said no, 

That we would be OK.

At intermission, she confessed that we should’ve bought the tissues! :-)

 

Jes used her hand to wipe away her tears.

I just let them stream down my face, onto my chest and my shirt,

And I didn’t bother to even try wiping them away as they were flowing.

There were a few moments when I felt like I couldn’t breathe,

My chest was tight and I felt like I just needed to make some noise as Heidi the Librarian says, 

But I couldn’t make any noise because I was in the middle of watching The Notebook Musical. 

I could hear sniffles from all over the auditorium and I could hear Jes struggling to pull herself together. 

It’s not uncommon for the tears to come with me,

But it’s rare for Jes to cry. 

She’s a doctor.

She sees a lot.

But in this case, it was the seeing that hooked her in a powerful way.

 

If you’ve never read the book or seen the movie or stage show,

The Notebook is a love story that centers around a wife with Alzheimer’s.

The husband, deeply devoted to his wife, reads their story to her from a notebook every day in hopes that she will “come back.”

The musical does a superb job portraying the confusion and heartbreak that one with Alzheimer’s must feel.

Some of the scenes are gutwrenchingly powerful.

Just thinking about them now, and the challenges that people with Alzheimer’s and their caretakers must face, makes me teary-eyed.

 

I’ve been talking a lot about caretaking over the past couple of weeks since I’ve been helping take care of my aunt who was visiting NC and got very sick.

I have been thrown into a world of people who tend to suffer quietly, 

Doing what they can and must do to take care of those they love.

Short-term disabilities, long-term disabilities, terminal illnesses, children with special needs, people with dementia or Alzheimer’s, people struggling to overcome addiction, people whose bodies are just getting old…

There are so many levels of caretaking. 

They are all hard.

They all present their own challenges.

But it seems to me that people dealing with Alzheimer’s might just have it the hardest, 

Their loved ones being stuck in their bodies and memories,

Not knowing who they are or remembering their lives, 

Oftentimes showing an angry side to themselves that no one ever expected to see. 

 

And so we cry. 

We cry for those stuck in their bodies and we cry for those who so desperately want to help them out. 

We cry for hurt and pain and exhaustion  and shattered dreams and lost hopes and heartbreak. 

We cry for patients and families and caregivers and workers who try to provide dignity in life.

We cry for those suffering in mental and emotional pain and we cry for those who feel that they are alone. 

We cry for beautiful harmonies and memories and the fabric that weaves together our lives. 

And we cry for ourselves, our insecurities, our helplessness, and our fears. 

 

The next time I go to a show that sells tissues as a souvenir, 

I will certainly be buying them! 

And I think that Jes the Doctor will, too, 

Because some stories are just too powerful not to cry.

 

Amen.