Someone I love has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease.

Yes, every day people all around this world are learning that someone they love has been diagnosed with cancer, or ALS, or MS or a host of other cruel and viciously unfair ailments that plague humankind.  And while it is the person who has received the diagnosis who is at the epicenter of suffering, everyone in that person’s circle of love will live with that diagnosis.

I read today that Alzheimer’s – like other degenerative diseases – is a slow packing-up of everything; getting ready to make that final journey home to heaven, where everything will be unpacked forever and restored in wholeness again. Degenerative diseases like Alzheimer’s don’t allow the luxury of packing things up in an orderly fashion.  You can’t choose to pack up directions to the store today and keep the memories of your dearest ones for later because you might want them before you travel. Some days, things will sneak back out of the suitcase for a moment or a time, and then just as soon as you get used to being able to say, “This is still good and we’ll keep it for awhile,” it sneaks off like that sock you know you put in the dryer with the other one.

I don’t know if I am ready to help my friend along this journey, or even if I know the way. But we will be grateful for as many good things we can share. We will sing songs that matter to you, and find moments of peace and calm in this storm. We will look forward to the day that the sadness and the dark moments can’t touch us anymore. And rejoice with you when that day comes that it’s all unpacked again, fresh and clean and new, for your enjoyment forever.