The past week I spent a long day in our garden, pulling zillions of weeds. Well, maybe not that many, but it sure seemed like it. The Clover was a definite challenge, but there were plenty of other contestants. Fortunately, the temperature stayed in the sixties, with plenty of sunshine. I had thrown the weedy debris on to the lawn, and figured I’d pick it up and bag it the next day.
The reason for waiting was that my back was feeling extremely unhappy. I took a hot shower and collapsed in front of the TV, pretty much like a zombie. It was just about an hour later that I happened to look at my left hand and realized my wedding ring was no longer residing on my finger. After a somewhat frantic search in the house, we realized that the ring was probably camped out in the garden.
The next morning, Cookie and I braved the morning chill and got to work searching. Cookie combed through the piles of weeds I’d left on the lawn, and I began searching the garden. About a half hour later, she located my ring in the weedy debris, it kind of looked liked it lived there.
It never occurred to me to take the ring off my finger, before heading out to the garden. I’ve lost some weight, so it did fit a little bit looser. But folks with dementia don’t seem to attend to such things. I know I don’t much anymore, as my memory continues to worsen. I try my best to keep abreast of it all, but my brain is losing the ability to remember.
I’ve been thinking of that old saying “Let go, let God” a lot. What got me thinking about it was a nasty rash that Cookie had acquired, and then gifted to me. Such things seem to come and go like the wind, harassing one for a while; hopefully they disappear when they’re finally done doing their mischief. Unfortunately, we are still in the midst of the thing, and are visiting our respective docs tomorrow.
Such things come and go like the seasons, often without our control. Letting go and Letting God seems to help me to retain at least some of my sanity. How might it work for you?