“Love’s endurance has no limits; its hope never fades.” ~ 1 Corinthians 13:7-8
They’d both enjoyed successful careers. After 12 years of
marriage, their five grown children had already left the nest. Lisa and Peter
were nearing early retirements in favor of travel, golf, and relaxation when
Peter’s diagnosis shattered their plans - Early-onset Alzheimer’s disease.
At just 53, Peter stepped away from his executive role, no
longer able to carry the weight of responsibilities he’d once handled with
ease. When it became unsafe for him to stay home alone, Lisa retired too,
trading professional goals for the sacred work of caregiving. Their world
narrowed, shaped by doctor visits, financial adjustments, and the slow
unraveling of memory.
As the disease tightened its grip, Peter lost names, faces,
and eventually even Lisa, the woman who’d walked beside him through every joy
and sorrow. Yet somehow, deep beneath the fog, where memory could no longer reach, love
waited like an ember that refused to die.
One day, while watching a wedding scene unfold on TV, Peter
grinned like a boy with a secret. He turned to Lisa, unaware of their already
shared history, and asked, “Do you want to get married?”
Love instantly rose again! “When the person you deeply
love chooses you twice,” Lisa later said, “how could you possibly say
no?” By morning, the proposal had slipped away, lost in the haze of
dementia. But Lisa carried it forward, asking nothing in return, not clarity,
not permanence, only grace for the moment she’d been given.
Fighting back tears, Lisa thought of Peter as she
approached the altar. Her heart trembled with unanswered questions. Did he
understand? Was he happy? Was he nervous like the first time?
When Lisa arrived at the altar, a confused Peter asked,
“Who are you?” Then, leaning close, he whispered, “You look great.”
They kissed, and for a few hours, everything in the
universe seemed to align perfectly.
Peter laughed and danced, joy returning like a long-lost
melody. Photos later showed a beaming groom, hands wrapped tightly around his
bride, as if love itself had steadied him. Deep memories stirred. “A piece
of him came back to us. It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming,” Lisa
shared.
Even though she tries to stay positive and focus on one day
at a time, Lisa knows that the day will come too soon when she must put Peter in
long-term care. Until then, she walks faithfully beside him, sharing their
precious storybook memories, as if he’s hearing them for the first time.
While Alzheimer’s steals so much, love is almost always the
last to go.
Almighty Lord, walk with all who watch
someone they love slowly fade. Strengthen weary hearts. Guard us from despair.
Teach us to see beauty even in loss, and draw us closer to You through every
challenge. Amen
