I’ll not take this space to wax poetic about the legacy of Dean Smith. There are many more qualified, more knowledgeable of the man and his work who have done so already and will keep his memory alive. Among the things they’ve noted and will note again and again is his belief in human dignity. He demonstrated it so many times in our little community. We learned it early on in his tenure when he walked into that restaurant with Charlie Scott in 1965.
I do have a little knowledge to share about the years ahead for his family as a loved one journeys into the twilight of memory.
My siblings and I did not know what to expect as our mother’s ability to put facts and faces together faltered. It was frustrating, occasionally hurtful and just baffling – the things that were lost and what was retained an unpredictable swirl.
Over the years, we made peace with the erosion of cognition. Being far away and not able to travel home nearly as much as I’d like, it was stunning sometimes to see the progression in leaps; from full sentences to simple phrases, simple phrases down to words, words to gestures, smiles, tears and just the look in her eyes.
It was hard, yes, but you learn to take what you can. For years, music seemed to be unassailable to the disease. She could sing phrases from Patsy Cline songs long after she was no longer able to ask for a drink of water. She would brighten up when I brought in my guitar and played old gospel numbers. I would live for those moments with her, when there were glimmers, when I saw the light in her, again, even for just a split second.
Mom had a slow journey into the twilight and lingered there for almost a decade. By the end, I was used to the strange world inside a nursing home’s Alzheimer’s and dementia wing, where for a second or two or longer you’re everybody’s son or daughter.
I made a point of always being there on Thanksgiving to feed Mom her midday meal. We’d sit with two of her fellow patients and their nurses – pretty much the same crew year after year – and we’d all catch up. I found a lot of comfort in the stories of the caregivers and other patients’ family members. It helps to know you’re not alone when your own mother doesn’t recognize you.
The Smith family and all of those close to Coach Smith know that we are with them and that many of us know all too well what lies ahead. We hope they are comforted in the outpouring of kindness from this community and the community of Coach Smith supporters from around the world. That may make it easier, but it won’t be easy. May they find the peace and patience to make this journey with their father and friend.
May God bless all of the wonderful Smith family~
Thank you for your very beautiful words.