Grace, Gratitude & Faith

As a son, my mother’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis was devastating. As a psychologist, it was an opportunity

- Jeff Bjorck

One of my mother’s favorite hymns was “I Come to the Garden Alone.” It’s an old hymn about walking with God in a garden “while the dew is still on the roses.” The refrain is the best part: “The joy we share as we tarry there, / none other has ever known.”By the time Mom died, at age 89, singing that hymn with her was one of the most important parts of our relationship. Mom had Alzheimer’s. She was diagnosed six years before she died, and in her final year she often didn’t remember my name. I watched her change from an articulate, self-sufficient woman of great artistic talent into someone else entirely. Meaningful conversation disappeared. Hymns were one of our last points of connection.

That sounds hard, and it was. But I don’t regret Mom’s last years. I’m a clinical psychologist and a professor of psychology at Fuller Theological Seminary. Over the years, I’ve counseled many people through the loss of loved ones. When it was my turn to be a caregiver, I experienced the truth of what I told my patients—that no textbook or set of treatment guidelines can fully prepare you for the challenges of shepherding another person through their last years. Ultimately, love and God’s grace are what get you through.

That’s especially true with Alzheimer’s. It erodes different aspects of people’s memories at different speeds and in different sequence. My mom was blessed with a cheerful demeanor until she died, but that’s not everyone’s experience. A warm, kind-hearted person can transform, seemingly overnight, into a cantankerous ball of anger and depression. Cherished memories and shared experiences disappear. How do you have a relationship with someone who doesn’t know who you are?