Jamie’s Corner, Chapter Four

This week, Uncle Rick was moved from an assisted living facility to a nursing home. As if that change in living situation wasn’t dramatic enough, he was wheeled onto a plane back to Boston since he wanted to be closer to the childhood home he left fifty years ago. His brother was happy to have him back.

Uncle Rick – not my real uncle, but a dear family friend – broke his neck from a brutal, freak fall fifteen years ago, and then in 2021 was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. The neck injury left him with limited mobility; Parkinson’s took most of what was left. Like Hemingway’s debt, Rick’s decline in mobility was gradual, then sudden. Walking was manageable, then it wasn’t. A walker was a solution, until it wasn’t. A wheelchair seemed to help, then it didn’t.

Uncle Rick is entering a new chapter in life, and I was fortunate enough to be with him as he turned the page. I’d like to share two reflections from this past week and the years leading up to it.

First, relationships change with age. Uncle Rick was Mr. Fun throughout my childhood. To my parents’ constant chagrin, he came bearing cake and goodies every time he visited our home, but he had all sorts of games to play, from basketball drills on our hoop out back to (highly fictionalized) World War II battle reenactments. He’d tell stories at the dinner table that made us howl, then slip us five-dollar bills as spending loot when he left the house.

That’s all changed. Thanks to Parkinson’s, his reminiscences and tall tales come out much more slowly; his hands can barely peel away bills from an ever-dwindling stack of twenties; him dribbling a basketball feels like a distant memory. Now, my parents, brothers, and sister work him into conversations around the dinner table, take him to the movies, stop by to visit him. I wish I could say everything has been roses, but it’s been hard. And yet, there is a deep beauty to this circle of life. I am glad to have witnessed it with Uncle Rick. He let himself be loved by us.

Second, I look to Uncle Rick’s next chapter with hope. As we left Chesterbrook Residences and passed by the front desk, an elderly woman missing an eye leaned forward in her walker, grasped his hand and said, “It’s been such a pleasure knowing you. Good luck!” Her warm, radiant smile, and the twinkle in her eye remind me that those who suffer don’t have to bear their burdens alone. Many of us will have friends, family, or mere acquaintances who share the same sufferings and fears we do. We can be sources of succor for each other. Each of us is called to love and be loved, no matter our stage in life. I hope Uncle Rick doesn’t forget that. Boston is blessed to have him back.

See you in a couple weeks,

Jamie