It’s heart-warming to see that look on Leaf’s face. His eyes are shut and he’s smiling. Every now and then he sniffs back a tear or two. He’s listening to a favourite LP from the 70’s. The music is unlocking treasured memories. How glad we are we didn’t sell his collection. Every one is a key to his past – a souvenir.
The word souvenir comes originally from Latin via the French (to remember). It means to bring into mind.
We’re told that the elderly often have remarkably sharp memories of their past and this is also likely to be true of most dementia patients. However, there is a big difference between those who have functioning minds and those who don’t. A great many of the latter will need a ‘key’. As carers, we need to make sure we can provide as many keys as possible so that our sufferer can revisit joyful experiences from their childhood, youth and middle age.
How often do we hear a friend say they’re having a big clear-out? It might be their own stuff or the possessions of a deceased relative. We may well decide we should too. As the bin bags pile up, we will probably be feeling liberated and proud. But have we carefully checked what we’re ditching? Might there be souvenirs in amongst our ‘rubbish’? Souvenirs that we would find invaluable if we were diagnosed with dementia or are now carers. How sad to have cleared away the past with a sanctimonious grin.
As many readers will be aware, I was carer to my first husband following his car accident back in 1987. Following a period of coma, he emerged both physically and mentally handicapped. For the rest of his life – 28 years – he suffered from short-term memory-loss and retrograde amnesia. He’d lost access to the 12 years leading up to his accident. In an effort to help him remember that time, I created a photo album with notes and cards for each year. Every visitor was asked to go through them with him in the hope of unlocking his past. It worked but only for a short time. Nonetheless, he really enjoyed looking through the pictures and identifying the people, the places and the history of each one.
How can we prepare for a future when we might need visual memorabilia for a loved one or even for ourselves? As I’ve pointed out before – none of us is immune. What can we do:
We can:
- dig out those old photos in a shoe box under the bed and put them in an album (a good way to spend a winter’s evening or two)
- make sure we at least back-up digital photos on an external disc. Preferably printing up the most important
- put old correspondence into date order year-by-year
- ditto old newspaper cuttings
- keep old diaries, journals and scrapbooks
- keep old LPs and cassettes of favourite music
- ditto family videos
- ask family and friends if the have photos, letters etc. we can copy
And there will probably be more.
When we’ve collected our recollections, we can find that treasure chest to keep them in. We might have an old suitcase or tin trunk, if not, they aren’t difficult to find.
Leaf and I are lucky to have written about large chunks of our lives. We can read to each other when we want to remember particular adventures or occasions. Maybe some readers will have done the same but if not, even a few reminders jotted in a notebook can be helpful.
There are, of course, other memory joggers. These come from our senses – sounds such as music, as already mentioned, smells, tastes and, very important, feelings – often evoked by touch or movement such as dancing.
Our lives to date are what have made us who we are. How tragic not to honour them by remembering all we’ve been through – well, at least the good stuff!
They say we must live in the moment, but if we can’t capture the moment, we only have the past. How sad it would be to have thrown away the keys to our memories and to find we have no way back.
Comments
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ELIZABETH says
Even now, when I come across photographs of my large extended family, both my grandmothers always lived with us, my four siblings and long suffering creative, kind and thoughtful parents. am cast back to the laughter, the celebrations, memories of times captured by the camera, cards and notes. Our Dad’s Alzheimer’s, my mum’s dementia – the keepsakes kept us sane as well as memory nudges to our dear parents. Memories are precious, for us all.
Yes, Liz, I can just imagine. When our memories aren’t working properly anymore, without our memorabilia, we’re cut off from happy days gone by. I’m sure they still give you lots of pleasure and will continue to do so.
That’s great advice Sue. I found it useful to go through old photos with mum, even if she appeared not to be taking it in. We just don’t know what a person with late stage dementia actually sees, hears, or understands so it’s vital to talk to them as we ever did.
I hope Leaf enjoyed his birthday party and wasn’t overwhelmed by a crowd.
Thanks Annabel. When you have seen how much joy being reminded of happy days can bring when the memory is playing up, it is so encouraging. I’m sure your mum was aware of much more than she could communicate.
Thank you, Leaf was rather overwhelmed but I think he was glad to have had a little celebration, at least he said he was but he’s better one-to-one these days.
Having just moved after 24 years, in the preparations a lot of things were thrown out, but not any LPs, Music Cassettes or photos. Too important to do without. All the best to you and Leaf.
That’s great Steve. They’re fun to go through/listen to for all the family, not only those with memory problems.
Hi Sue, very impressed with this blog. I was contemplating chucking my old journals that I kept for years. Since reading your blog i realise how valuable they might became yet!
Thanks Lili. Yes, you may well be grateful to have hung onto these valuable personal thoughts from the past. How lovely it will be to read them again one day, to remember who you were then.