One More

April 18, 2013 and April 1, 1016 are significant days that my family will always remember. Like marks chiseled on a door frame, they will be forever engraved in our minds. They will make us swallow, stifle a tear or two, but mostly make us stop and praise the Lord that we were given a precious gift of a few more years with our most special man.

First, he was diagnosed with (FTD) Frontotemporal Dementia, which is caused by progressive nerve cell loss in the brain’s frontal lobes (the areas behind your forehead) or its temporal lobes (the regions behind your ears), most likely caused (or sped up) by 4 significant blows to the head. Three years later he survived a stroke, which left him wheelchair bound for 10 months.

I don’t think we are alone in measuring time by landmarks: when we were married, had our children, grandchildren, moved, changed jobs… But never, did we celebrate them like we do now.

One more.

We were told at the time of the diagnosis that my favorite man had (on average) 6-8 years to live from the time of onset. On April 18, my husband will have reached his 6 year anniversary.

Honestly, we feel like he is doing well. There are seven stages of FTD and I would guess that he falls in the fifth stage. On average, a dementia patient remains in this stage for about 4 years. As long as we keep his world small and predictable, he continues to be highly functional and needs minimal assistance. At this stage, my husband is quite easy to manage and remains fairly content.

What this means is that we don’t look too far into the future for anything and we celebrate nearly everything. It makes me think: What if everyone looked at life as “one more”? What if we slowed down and stopped looking toward the next —- and just celebrated today- the wonderful, beautiful today?

Today we took our first walk of the season to the ocean, and had one more ice cream. We sat on the warm rocks and watched one more tide roll in, and listened to one more windstorm.

Perhaps we all need a mindset change. Instead of “sitting through one more dreaded meeting”, we looked at the time as one more opportunity to gather with colleagues? Instead of “one more work week”, we looked at the blessing of a job that fulfills us?

Everybody has a hard job, and everyone goes through hard times. But what if… What if we took the time to be thankful and joy-filled because God has graced us and blessed us with “one more”?

One more day to say “I love you.”

One more day to hold his hand on a walk.

One more day to close my eyes and feel the warmth on my body while listening to the waves slap against the rocks, smelling the salty air.

There will come a day when I will miss watching the 2016 election, putting down the toilet seat, and running into furniture that has been moved yet again. There will be a day when I will plead and beg for just one more day.

56446489_10217274462447643_1286714808233623552_n

 

 

Advertisements

Early Onset: A Challenge to Diagnose

22196132_10213215249129847_7138715406374431132_n
     On Thursday, the Alzheimer’s Association is pushing for a new bill in the state of Maine, LD 1072, that will require doctors and other medical staff to be trained in dementia, hospitals to develop a care plan before discharging a dementia patient, and that doctors always disclose a dementia diagnosis.
     This is our story.
     In May of 2002, my husband (age 36) went to a weekend Men’s Retreat at Camp Fair Haven. It was there, that he had a terrible accident. He rolled his four-wheeler going down a steep hill, holding on for 2 of the 3 rotations. Thankfully, he was wearing safety gear and had a helmet on. However, he remained in Trauma Care for 14 days suffering with multiple injuries that included a shattered ankle, broken collarbone, broken ribs, and a punctured lung.
     In hindsight, I do believe that this is where our Dementia story began.
     My husband is a clutz. If he can trip over, fall off, run into, or drop anything, he does. He has never accepted his limitations and has a very strong work ethic. As a result, he has sustained many injuries over time. I lovingly joke that, “He is the reason we have health insurance”.
     That same year we lost the matriarch of the family to cancer: his mother. He hit rock bottom. He could not get his bearings. It was at that time that the doctor put him on the first of many antidepressants. Many made him worse. So we would slowly wean him off one set, and wean him on another. We blamed his mood, social, and cognitive glitches on the loss of the mother that he adored.
     Over time, he has sustained 3 more significant blows to the head, participated in unsafe behavior, began self-medicating with alcohol and had what doctors classified as a classic “Midlife Crisis” in 2009. Our marriage of 22 years nearly dissolved.
     In 2010, my husband lost his father to cancer. Again, doctors continued to treat the obvious: depression. He attended counseling and weekly support groups.
     In 2013, he abruptly lost his job of 17 years after making an error on an insurance claim for a customer, submitting the claim as a “final bill” instead of a “final quote.” He had no idea that the error had been made, until a private investigator knocked on the front door to our home.
     We were denied unemployment, despite hiring lawyer #1 on half-salary, and appealing the decision twice.  His employer insisted that he made the error on purpose, although my husband clearly had nothing to gain.  It was cruel and humiliating. At that time, he was 47 years old.
     Seven months later, he was hired at a competitive company, and worked just 5 months before employers let him go. His employers thought there might be something wrong with his memory and encouraged him to see a doctor. So, a year later, to the date, my husband lost his second job.
     This is when we got serious with doctors and insisted on extensive testing.
     
It took two and a half years to get Social Security Disability. We were denied twice and forced to testify at a hearing with lawyer #2 for $6,000 despite medical paperwork 2 inches thick.
     In March of 2016 my husband had a stroke, which left him in a wheelchair for 10 months.
     
Much of what we have learned, we have learned on our own. Doctors are reluctant to answer questions because “every case is different”, and patients and caregivers are forced to reach and grab at straws. Thankfully, a specialized support group for early-onset coached us.
     
However, the most frustrating part of the diagnosis is that I feel like I have to be a strong advocate and educator to medical professionals and personnel. When I take him to the ER, which we frequent for Urinary Tract Infections and spikes in Blood Pressures, I have to be right by his side. I carry a fist full of papers which include his medical history, the history of his family, his multiple medication list, Medical and Financial Power of Attorney, and a DNR. This was as a result of lawyer #3 & #4, Eldercare Lawyers hired to prepare end of life paperwork & Wills.
     I have to remind professionals to talk to him and look at him while I listen. I have to coach them to put him in a quiet space, to speak slowly and simply, to dim the lights, and keep me with him as much as possible, because Dementia is huge and complicated, and nobody knows how to support and quiet nerves more than the caregiver. A huge part of the diagnosis is FEAR: fear of crowds, people, everything.
     At one point, our Primary Care Physician discussed the possibility of Home Visits. I would like to recommend that as something medical professionals consider. My husband is a very different person at home. If medical professionals want to see an accurate representation of where those diagnosed are at in their progression, I would highly recommend a home visit.
     After both his accident and his stroke, Home Health Care was fantastic. PT, OT, nursing, and social workers came to our home during the day, allowing me to continue to work full-time.
     We are young and many health care facilities aren’t accustomed to working with those diagnosed with Dementia in their late 40’s/early 50’s. As a result, many people have difficulty getting diagnosed, and are misdiagnosed for an extended period of time. At his highest point, my husband was taking 27 pills a day. I worry about the time that we are not longer able to care for him in our home. Thankfully, our youngest daughter and her family were able to move in with us and care for him by day so that I can continue to work full-time. She is taking on-line classes with a focus on Gerontology, with the hope that as he progresses, she will be better equipped to care for him and keep me working. (I’m not eligible for retirement for another 10 years.) Our older daughter has extensive training and has been an additional coach/support system for us. Although her home base is in Arkansas, she comes home for nearly every school break. I often wonder what would happen to my husband if he didn’t have such a strong support system.
     Today he is 53. We are nearing the 6 year anniversary of his diagnosis, and we are told that on average those diagnosed with Frontotemporal Dementia live 7-8 years from the time of onset. At this point, he isn’t receiving any extra medical care: no more specialists. Initially, we reached out to the Brain Center for testing, Dementia Specialist, Neurologist, PT, OT, and saw a multitude of specialists. Although he remains fairly high functioning, he just wants to live his life. Thankfully his PCP has been very supportive of our decision.
     We just need to know that when the time comes, medical personnel are adequately trained in dementia care, a care plan is provided before sending us to next steps, and that professionals are equipped to help caregivers fill out necessary paperwork for long-term care. We need to be able to access local memory care facilities equipped to work with those of early onset Dementia, so that our loved one is not housed in the same area as the elderly or those with differing mental health diagnosis. In the end, we want to easily access our loved one, and be provided the quality and affordable care that he deserves.
    Please consider testifying on behalf of those diagnosed and contact your local representatives regarding LD 1072. I did.
     Cynthia Higgins
Waldo County, Maine
53845679_581860335626256_5431364343432216576_n
     Here is a copy of the bill:

Win! Win!

I went to Wal-Mart yesterday and I only lost my husband once. I consider that a win, win! It isn’t uncommon for any of us to misplace our loved ones on occasion. However, in our case, we are preparing to hit the 6-year anniversary of one of my husband’s worst days of his life: the day that he lost his job of 17 years. It is also when we began to realize that something was very wrong.

Honestly, it has become a blessing. I believe that removing that stress has added both quality and quantity to his life and as a result, our marriage has never been sweeter. Yes, he has dementia. Yes, we know what that means. However, it isn’t all gloom and doom. In fact, it is mostly fine.

My husband is the same old goofball he’s always been. This week I found oven mitts in the frig. This Fall, he had somehow managed to get the entire coffee maker in there. I eventually found out the reason for the coffee pot: to keep the ants out. (Naturally!) I am convinced that there is some equally good reason for the placement of the oven mitts. We just don’t know what it is yet. Perhaps it is to have nice cold mitts to take hot items from the stove and this is the beginning of a new trend!

He still likes to go on short trips to meet up with familiar people. Yesterday we ran errands on the way to have lunch with friends- hence the “quick stop” to Wal-Mart. We went in for 3 items: shoe goo, coffee creamer, and toothpaste. We came out with $115 worth of things we “needed”. (My man just loves to shop!) During check-out he needed to use the restroom and didn’t return. The cashier patiently allowed me to scoop up my favorite guy, who was standing outside the bathroom, looking all around. He wasn’t upset. When I asked him if he was lost, he said, “I was waiting. I knew you’d find me.” I reassured him that he did exactly as we have taught the kids to do, and he nodded his head, proud that he had done the right thing.

Once leaving the store, he became concerned about all the cars in the lot: “Our car is lost.” I always make it a point to talk about where our car is and landmarks surrounding it, when we park. Yesterday, I had announced that we were nose toward the Home Depot flag. He followed my directions as I instructed him where to go, even though he didn’t quite believe me, and he was relieved to find the car.

It made me wonder, how much does that happen during a typical day? How often is he “standing outside the restroom” or “searching for the car” until his brain catches up or until one of us gently finds him and brings him back, or guides him to where he needs to be?

We have had to remind him on several separate occasions that he has just had his 53rd birthday. He keeps forgetting and sometimes doesn’t believe us. One minute he’s in a fog. The next, he is perfectly clear. Yesterday he told our friends, “I don’t know why people say that you are another year older. You are only one day older than the day before. What’s the big deal?” (He’s right you know.)

He’s a nerd. He has always been a joker. My brother said the other day, “I can’t tell if he is legitimately confused, or playing with me.” He’s right. When my brother wished him happy birthday, my favorite man seriously said, “It’s my birthday?” When he told my husband his age, he replied, “That can’t be. That’s old.” 51973075_10218188709851508_3315212005115166720_n.jpg

When I ask him if he feels 53, he tells me that he feels older. He says that he hurts, is tired all the time, and that he hates his gray hair. Some days this is particularly obvious and he can barely function all morning long. He just sits in a daze with his hand over his eyes. He can’t hold a conversation, or even feed himself. But after a nap, nine times out of ten, he’s back to his old self and pontificating about current events. Mornings are often rough- slow to get going, and evenings are generally when he is the most clear. He matches the weather. If it’s a foggy day- so is he. He doesn’t seem to be experiencing “Sun Downing”, which is common of those who have been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. (A fog when the sun goes down.) In fact, he prefers the evening (with the lights on) and sleeps better when the sun is out. When I ask him about that, he says that he “doesn’t like the dark”.

What’s really strange is that he knows ABOUT many people. He can often hold a two-way conversation about friends, family, and community members. Yet, he has no idea who they are when he sees them. The kids and I prep him before gatherings, but it’s a crap shoot. Sometimes he’s fine. Sometimes he’s a hot mess. Sometimes he’s fine for a bit, and ends a hot mess. Generally, we can take him places where we are pretty sure he isn’t going to know anyone and he is fine- like the ocean, the grocery store, or Home Depot. Failure tends to come when we take him to places where he feels like he should know people or people might know him.

This even happens at home. After Christmas we had a small gathering of friends from church come to the house. He cooked, cleaned, and talked about many of the people who were going to be attending. However, as soon as the first guest entered the house, he began to stutter, stare, and shake, so my daughter shuffled him off to watch a movie in the bedroom. He was much happier with the baby, some snacks, and REMEMBER THE TITANS on the TV.

It’s weird. He misses people, but he wants to be alone. He wants to go places, but he wants to stay home. So, if we can get him out into public and only lose him once, I call that a WIN, WIN!

52958278_10217022152180044_656897148931014656_n.jpg

It Takes A Village

A colleague reminded me this week that we all have people in our circle who watch over us. She referred to the support system as a village, which has left me thinking.

In the world of teaching, we often feel isolated. It sounds funny, that a unit of like-minded people could work together, yet separately, and feel lonely. After all, we have little people all around us and we work with a large number of adults. However, the reality is that we have little time for personal social interaction.

Some people are perfectly happy being alone. I am not.

45767856_10216223139965238_2146917347972087808_n

My favorite time period of teaching was the 13 years that I team taught. My co-teacher and I worked like a finely tuned machine. Her strengths were my weaknesses and mine were hers. We complimented each other. We worked primarily in the portable classrooms, just outside of the school building, and renamed it the Learning Cottage. We created our own village. We all loved it out there. It was like a little 2-room schoolhouse that included 40 children. Quite honestly, it was at the highlight of my teaching.

We weren’t made to live in isolation. Even wolves travel in packs. I think we were designed to be part of like-minded groups. Those units shift and change, but I believe that I am a better me when I am around loyal people with like-goals, who sincerely want to be with me.

We live in a naturally competitive society and I am not competitive in any way shape or form. I don’t want to ever draw attention to myself. I don’t like confrontation. I want to blend in. I am a team player, and have very high expectations for myself and others within my small village.

I am faithful to a fault, and sometimes I get burned because I am so trusting. Sometimes in a pack, wolves turn on the old and the fragile. I am not old, but I’ll admit that I am fragile. Sometimes it takes my whole village to keep me moving forward. I am so thankful for them.

A small Gift Card is often left in my school mailbox to help with groceries. I am so thankful for the anonymous villager who is quietly watching over me. It helps to ward off the loneliness. You’d be surprised at how many times that card has pushed us through- the exact amount needed to get us to the next paycheck. Whoever you are, I pray that you are reading this. I am so thankful for your commitment to making me feel cared for.

Our world has become much smaller as my favorite man forgets people he rarely sees. I find it interesting that he talks about people as we pass by their homes. However, if those same people pop into our house, he often doesn’t know who they are. He is lonely, but he doesn’t want to see people. It’s too scary because they know him and he doesn’t know them. (If I think about it, if a stranger showed up insisting he knew me and I didn’t recognize him, I would be terrified and I wouldn’t want to let him in.) We don’t travel very far or for very long. It’s too scary. This means that our short outings are predictable, and generally places where he won’t run into anyone.

A few years ago, I shared our dilemma with our pastor. His response: if people (the village) don’t come to me, then I (because he won’t go) need to go to the village. The snag is that I am needed at home as soon as school is over. My guy paces and waits for me by the window every afternoon, waiting for my return.

So, to the faithful members of my small village: you know who you are, THANK YOU. You give me strength, encouragement, and talk me off the ledge when my nerves seem like they cannot withstand one more obstacle.

Today I am thankful for the sweet moments that I get to share with my favorite man and that I am not alone.

May the members of our individual villages be patient in tribulation, bless those who persecute us, and abhor evil. My prayer is that everyone is a part of a intimate village that lifts and encourages one another no matter what the time and the hour. May we use our individual gifts to strengthen each another. Together may we all rejoice in hope, cleave to what is good, and always display love. May we not go through the motions, but instead, be a wise and cheerful blessing. (Romans 12)

Spaghetti Struggles

“How do I understand him better? Why does he say what he says? Why does he do what he does? Isn’t it common sense? Doesn’t he just know what I need? Why do I have to tell him again? I feel like he doesn’t care.”

Partnerships are complicated. There are no exceptions. Relationships between any two human beings need work, and those that matter the most require a whole lot of hard work. (I dare say that 100% of the time: every day, and all day.) Our family has relied on the two books featured. If you haven’t read them, I highly suggest taking the plunge. They are a quick easy read jam-packed with great practical information.

So what happens when one can’t give 100% and your relationship leans to one side? For whatever reason, the relationship is lopsided. Now what?

These are my favorite verses to fall back on. When I am feeling defeated, alone, and fear is getting the best of me, this is the place where I land:

26 Likewise the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:26,28

This week my husband was faced with a “plate of spaghetti” and I had an opportunity to see how he was able to tackle it in his dementia state of mind. Women think like spaghetti. They have a thousand things whizzing around and multiple plates to juggle at once. It is how we are hardwired. Men, generally do not multitask as well, and like to handle tasks one waffle square at a time. This is definitely true with the men in my life.

In the past- before dementia, my husband would handle a “plate of spaghetti”- multiple dilemma’s all interwoven, by peeling apart one or two parts of the dish at a time. In fact, I remember him coaching our teenage children through each crisis by giving them a list of 2-3 things to do, with a timeline. He would help them by placing the parts and pieces of the spaghetti dish into waffle squares to be tackled one at a time. He was good at it, and the kids would gravitate toward our calm problem solver.

I, on the other hand, am a practical problem solver and a BIG PICTURE girl. The kids didn’t need my help to see the forest just yet. They just needed to see one tree at a time, and he was their go-to person. In fact, I have often made things worse if I interfere too early.

We have been a team. We compliment each other very much. He has traditionally seen the trees and could get them out of the forest. Then he would tag out and I could help them to process and plan next steps.

So, back to the spaghetti. My brain goes a mile a minute. In fact, on this Saturday, I was awakened at an early hour with a headache, a sore jaw, and thoughts flying through my brain at warped speed.

My husband’s brain does not. This week he sat and stared at his figurative plate of spaghetti, and could not pull out just one part at a time and work through our multilayered challenges. He didn’t even know where to start. The only solution that he could think of wasn’t a possibility. He just sat and cried. He knew I needed him, but he couldn’t help.

So what happens when the relationship is lopsided, despite all the best intentions, and your better half can’t speak your love language?  In Matthew, Jesus says that church members should forgive each other “seventy times seven times” (18:22), a number that symbolizes boundlessness. I take this as a directive for healthy humans. But what if one isn’t? What if he just can’t reciprocate the way I need him to? Now what?

37 Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind.

Matthew 22:37

Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.

1 John 4:8

I think the answer is to love and to take what he can give because something is better than nothing. So, to all of you who don’t have an equal partnership, and a plate of spaghetti is just too much to maneuver through, my advice is to take what you can get and accept what he can give. Put on your game face, be the best YOU you can be, and take the blessings, because life is hard and unpredictable. Don’t waste one precious moment thinking about what you don’t have or how your needs aren’t being 100% met. Instead, focus on what you do have. Count your blessings, name them one by one. I do believe that we will be rewarded in the end.

28 And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:28

43280680_10216000478678845_5066786525547593728_n

 

Figuratively Speaking

Your mind is a garden, your thoughts are the seeds. You can grow flowers or you can grow weeds. I am determined to grow flowers.

We’ve had a really great summer and Fall, a nice long stable stretch. As long as we keep my favorite man’s world predictable, quiet, and with enough projects to keep him busy, he remains happy as a pig in poop.

44284050_10216065718829808_8116275771711946752_nCoffee and candy make him as happy as a kid in a candy store and walks by the ocean keep him happy as a clam at high tide. It takes very little to make his day.

Nap time is most important for him, wrapped like a bug in a rug, he will saw logs for about three hours a day. This gives him enough of a second wind, to stay up until well past my bedtime. He seems to enjoy the quiet time. He thinks it’s the best thing since sliced bread.

He continues to enjoy rewatching the last election from a variety of different networks and is thrilled with the surprise outcome every time. He also follows the local sports teams. He is still quite opinionated, so I say squat when he wants to fill me in about what he watches. Sometimes it takes a month of Sunday’s to get his point across, but if I remain cool as a cucumber when he is wound tighter than a three-day clock, he is happier than a pup with two tails. I remind myself to give eye contact, shut my mouth, nod my head, wait, and listen. That’s all he needs.

imagesMy problem is that I am generally busier than a one-armed paper hanger. I feel like I complete everything by the skin of my teeth and that nothing I do is done up to par. However, I’m learning the value of putting away technology and correcting, giving him my time. Nobody ever lays on their deathbed wishing they spent more time working. My undivided attention makes him happier than a butcher’s dog.

As we prepare for the third snow of the season, we are once again enjoying the pellet stove. Not only does it provide warmth, but it gives him something else to be responsible for. Everyone needs a job, and everyone needs to feel needed. It’s a good thing that he continues to be strong as an ox, and his rotator cuff is allowing him to carry the 40 pound pellets with ease. He really minds the cold, and so the stove is the cat’s meow.

We aren’t quite done winterizing. He still needs to put in the window inserts, the plastic, and the orange stakes out for our neighbors who plow for us. However, he is proud as a peacock that he is still able to do so much to care for our home. God knew that my favorite guy would need plenty of projects.

He can still write, although his handwriting isn’t what it once was and his speech, most of the time, is as plain as day. Sometimes he mixes up words or has a hard time getting his point across, but if we let him “warm up” he will generally make connections.

He putters and is often slower than molasses going uphill, but it makes no difference. There is no fire. Sometimes it is a day or two – and he needs to watch and rewatch YouTube to help him with a project snag, but soon the answer is as plain as day and the snaffoo is working slick as poop through a tin horn.

This year he decided that he didn’t want a vegetable garden or chickens. He has been determined to simplify, which started last summer when our goal was to go through everything we own and thin out. It was a challenge, but he tackled it like a champ, and was happier than a pig in a slop trough when he was able to make more room in the garage.

If he’s having “one of those days” and is meaner than a wet hen, we just remember that there is more than one way to skin a cat. If coffee, candy, and a nap doesn’t do it, we employ the toddler technique. Although our 22 month old granddaughter can run around like a tornado in a trailer park, she can take him from looking like something the cat dragged in, with a personality of a damp dishrag, to a a kid on Christmas morning. Nobody can melt his soul, like his grandbabies.

When the house lacks order and looks like a pig sty, I’m on it like white on rice. We will often clean and straighten together- especially on laundry day, since he has trouble separating the clothes.

If it’s too stimulating, we make like a banana and split, and head off like a herd of turtles to his get-a-way. His mood is never anything that a trip to the coast won’t cure, with a walk and to watch the boats . This makes him as happy as a fox in the hen-house and when he’s happy, I’m happy.

Although poor as church mice because nobody has found that blasted money tree yet, we know that we sow what we reap. Therefore, we want to be transparent, teaching others how to push through life’s challenges. We are not greater than thou. We are just normal humans going through challenges just like everyone else. Instead of feeling sorry for ourselves, we try to meditate on life as a coffee cup, filled to the brim and enjoyed with friends. My husbands favorite reminder to others is that everybody has a story, we only need to listen and observe.

We miss people. Our world has become very small, but we’ve learned that life is like an elevator on its way up, sometimes we have to stop and let some people off. Instead of dwelling on who isn’t around, we are thankful for those that want to be part of our journey, and show us with their actions and prayers.

Life isn’t all peaches and cream. So, as long as we have air to breath, we will remind our family that, “They (you) are our (my) sunshine”, and when they ask if life’s challenges are over; We’ve hit our max; It’s someone else’s turn, we will tell them to dream on Alice, soon they’ll be in Wonderland.

More than anything we just keep reminding ourselves that love is like the wind, you can’t see it, but you can feel it and when life hands you lemons, make lemonade.

43280680_10216000478678845_5066786525547593728_n.jpg

 

Happy National Coffee Day!

42727692_432819013790021_7068949409626587136_n

“Buy one, get one free” brought a smile to my favorite man’s face and a put a twinkle in his eye today. This has brought me joy beyond all measure.

Today has been a foggy day. He has them once in a while. Coffee, a walk, leaf peeping, and a trip to the grocery store made my favorite man’s day. He is now peacefully napping and I hope that he is dreaming of LOVE. I pray that he feels the warm feeling of a family that insists on focusing on what he can do today, what he can remember in the moment, and that his heart and our hearts will forever be entwined.

Coffee is one thing that keeps him with us and makes all the difference. So from our family to yours, Happy National Coffee Day! May it be as good for you as it has been for us.