There Is Light In The Darkness

Those of you who have been following my caregiving journey over the past months and years, know that I have served as the sole and soul caregiver for my partner who lives with advanced stages of Parkinsons and dementia. May brought about a new chapter in that caregiving journey.

One Saturday evening at the beginning of May, my partner experienced paralysis. He simply could not move, let alone get in or out of bed. Within 48 hours, we placed two 911 calls. The first call brought us to hospital emergency, only to be discharged 10 hours later, once his mobility returned. The second call brought us back to hospital emergency for the same reason (paralysis). Gratefully, a doctor who cared enough to take a more wholistic view of the situation, admitted my partner to the hospital for observation.

Over the following days, after a banter of tests, consultations, and assessments by neurologists, geriatricians, occupational therapists, physiotherapists, social workers, dementia specialists, and a cast of other well-meaning people in white lab coats, it was determined that my partner was not able to return home. My partner would be transitioned into the long-term care system.

The path into a long-term care home was not clear. It was possible my partner would remain in hospital for a few months before moving to a ‘transition’ facility, where he would wait for a bed / room to become available in a long-term care home. The wait in the transition facility, I was told, could be upwards to a year before a bed becomes available in a long-term care home.

The preceding events created a set of circumstances that resulted in having to sell our home and for me to find another place to live. I was able to sell our home quickly and moved in to an apartment in September.

At the risk of sounding dramatic, I cannot remember life offering me such an emotional-charged set of circumstances. Yes, it felt stressful. Yes, I felt anxiety most days. Yes, things felt very dark. But…there is also light in the dark.

My daily visits with my partner in the hospital became a devotional practice. As challenging as the times felt, visiting my partner was an opportunity to practice compassion and to try, as best I could, to offer support to my partner during this end-of-life chapter of his life. It was an opportunity to, no matter how bad things looked, to put someone else’s needs ahead of mine; to get outside of myself at a time that tends to persuade you that it’s all about you!

My partner and I had some wonderful, tender moments in the hospital room. Amidst the decrepit, antiseptic-laden walls of a run-down hospital, these tender moments are etched in my mind and a vivid reminder that, in the end, all that really matters is love.

As I put one foot in front of the other each day, there have been numerous, not-so-little signs that all is in divine order; that life has aligned for me and that life has my back. Seemingly serendipitous events are commonly sharing their light with me and people are coming out of the woodwork to offer assistance and support—people I never would have thought would care-a-less.

I am grateful for my spiritual practice and never-more-aware how grounding and nurturing my devoted practice has become over the years. My devotional practice has brought with it a resolute faith that there are blessings in here for me. It is difficult to see them at this time. I too realize this is all happening for my good and that I will come through this enriched and grateful. I also accept and surrender to the awareness that I must GO THROUGH this in order to realize the blessings.

Devotion to my partner. Devotion to my spiritual practice. It is through this devotion that I am able to see the light in the darkness. And what a blessing that is!

Robert Meagher has been ordained as an Interfaith Minister and certified as a Sacred Attention Therapy (SAT) Therapist. Robert is the Founder and Spiritual Director for Spiritual Guidance and Co-Founder of the Center for Human Awakening.