CT Classic: Muriel's Blessing
Despite the toll of his wife's Alzheimer's, a husband marvels at the mystery of love.
By Robertson McQuilkin | posted 2/01/2004 12:00AM

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It's just as well I have those memories of past conversations, for she hasn't spoken a coherent word in months—years, if you mean a sentence, a conversation—though occasionally she tries, mumbling nonwords. Would I never hear that voice again?
Then came February 14, 1995.
I'm No Victim
Valentine's Day was always special at our house because that was the day in 1948 Muriel accepted my marriage proposal. On the eve of Valentine's Day in 1995 I read a statement by some specialist that Alzheimer's is the most cruel disease of all, but that the victim is actually the caregiver. I wondered why I never felt like a victim. That night I entered in my journal: "The reason I don't feel like a victim is—I'm not!" When others urged me to call it quits, I responded, "Do you realize how lonely I would be without her?"
After I bathed Muriel on her bed that Valentine's eve and kissed her good night (she still enjoys two things: good food and kissing!), I whispered a prayer over her: "Dear Jesus, you love sweet Muriel more than I, so please keep my beloved through the night; may she hear the angel choirs."
The next morning I was peddling on my Exercycle at the foot of her bed and reminiscing about some of our happy lovers' days long gone while Muriel slowly emerged from sleep. Finally, she popped awake and, as she often does, smiled at me. Then, for the first time in months she spoke, calling out to me in a voice clear as a crystal chime, "Love … love … love." I jumped from my cycle and ran to embrace her. "Honey, you really do love me, don't you?" Holding me with her eyes and patting my back, she responded with the only words she could find to say yes: "I'm nice," she said.
Those may prove to be the last words she ever spoke.
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Also posted today
CT Classic: Living by Vows | As his wife suffered with Alzheimer's, Robertson McQuilkin said, "If I took care of her for 40 years, I would never be out of her debt."
Final Chapter | Robertson McQuilkin reflects on his wife's long battle with Alzheimer's.