I Remember, I Remember

I Remember, I Remember

I remember your smell

Your touch, your kiss

The way you made me feel

When you looked into my eyes

My inner burning fire

Needing, wanting

I remember, I remember

Through broken tears

And torn heart

Watching you from

Behind hidden shadows

I still love you babe

But you turned

Your back on me

I pick my heart up

And dust it off

Trying to mend

The broken pieces

I remember, I remember

The way we were

Now you walk hand in hand

With another, I turn

And walk a way

Sobbing I will

Always remember.

Written by,

Terry Shepherd







Please Don’t Say You Don’t Love Me

Do not suck

The life out of

My loins for

I will crumble

In front of your

Feet, tears

Scrambling to

Find a place to hide

My heart laying in

Pieces for the

eyes to see

Please don’t go

Stay near my side

Love me forever

Say you will never leave.

Terry Shepherd


Broken Heart

My Heart Is Torn In Half


There are no tears to cry, no place to run and hide. I must stay and face the music.


Broken Heart


Everyone keeps telling me that God will give me no more than I can handle, and I think I can handle no more. To have to admit to myself that my time here is up, is the worst thing I have ever done next to filing my divorce papers, or maybe staring at my father in his casket, trying to burn his image in my mind, so that I will never ever forget his look.


My heart is torn because Al is doing his best, but I can not do it anymore. The stress of the headaches and wanting to pull my hair out one by one shaft, has almost put me over the edge of sanity.


I have heard others say place him, and others say don’t place him, and I have always been the fighter type personality, swearing I can do all things when it comes to making sure others are in the best condition they can be in, but tonight, I have a headache so big, it is scaring me. Tonight, when I am typing, the letters are being tossed backwards and forwards, not staying in order as they should, and I blame this on my stability of being able to think.


The caregiver called me earlier this evening to inform me that she would rather spend her time with her kids tomorrow, and so she didn’t want to come. She asked if this was alright with her, and I smarted off. I couldn’t help it, but it came out and for a few moments, I was ashamed of myself. She is a caregiver that gives showers only, no emotions involved, no talk is tossed between the two, shower and go, and always a wink to Al, saying make the best out of today. I say screw her! He does try to make the best out of each day, and then he starts crying because he knows he fails at this attempt all the time.


Al didn’t understand even what I said, when I told him she wasn’t coming. He asked me what I meant, and I said quite frankly, she isn’t coming! He started crying. I told him to go in the bathroom and start the water and get his clean clothes out, and I would give him his shower tonight instead of in the morning.


As he undressed himself, I noticed he had too long of finger nails, and I remembered how that must not be part of shower duties for the caregiver, so I trimmed his nails. I also trimmed the hairs off of his ears, and also trimmed his mustache. That was a job in itself, because of his tears, his mustache was full of liquid gook! I had to keep wiping his nose so I could trim. I noticed a strong odor coming from him and wondered how long it had been since he had a shower, knowing it truly was yesterday.


When we were finished trimming, I helped him to stand and to sit on the shower chair. This is a three-fold step process. Stand and back up until your knees can feel the shower chair, sit down, turn around and lift one leg at a time until completely on. He didn’t get it right the first time, so we had to do it over again, and when he scooted over, I noticed the color brown all over the shower chair.


I had mixed emotions about this, but just told him that I would have to clean his bathroom when done and he was safely sitting in his recliner. I had already noticed when I did laundry that morning, that there were too many yellows and browns in his under clothing, telling me he was beginning to struggle more and more with bathroom facilities.


Last evening he was so upset, because not only is he becoming obsessed with having his number two’s happening, he has begun the digging process, and now he is upset because he hasn’t gone pee for an  hour. What? I don’t even pee every hour, but then I realized he is just carrying over his obsession from number two to number one and two. Oh my gosh, how am I going to deal with this.


So when I saw this on the shower chair, everything clicked inside of me and I knew it was over.


I have to admit, I don’t know too much about dementia. I know more about the Alzheimer’s disease. I just know that he didn’t and sometimes does not understand simple sentences with very few words, and he is struggling in the bathroom now. He cries at every thing I say.


Tonight after supper I went into his room and turned the fan on in his window. It was so much cooler outdoors than it is in here, and when each of us turn our window fans on  and leave our doors open , in no time, the home is completely cooled by nature.


He went nuts, and without using his cane practically ran to his room, to close his bedroom door. I explained that he had to leave it open, that I was not turning the air on just because he wanted to keep Cali, the kitty out of his room. He was so stressed out,  that this caused another outburst of tears and arguing. This was brought on because the first day we had our new kitty, she had lived outdoors and didn’t recognize her kitty box until the next day, then all was safe. I had told Al to close his bedroom door for that one day, and I would close my bedroom door also, until she was box trained, thank goodness there was only one accident, and she had the training all down in twenty-four hours.


Al would make remarks after that day, saying look, she is using her cat box, and we would both laugh and I would say yep, she sure is!  But, when I told him to leave his door opened, he used Cali as a reason not to, and so once again I explained how it was safe now, that we both knew she was box trained, but he argued and cried.


With all of this and the knowing he is so sad and wants to die, and all the gravy dumped on top of the disease, I can not do anymore. It is going to cost me my health, maybe even a stroke or worse. I have to make the calls. I have to find a place for him where he will be happy, but my heart is torn in half, and this will be so hard. I am going to need all the positive support I can get, as there is no support here around me. Please help me get through this, I beg of you. It is like another death in a way to me. I know I will be able to go see him, this is not the point. It is another loss of a family member, like losing my own mom and dad, and finally the walls will speak no more, the ceilings will shed no more tears, and all around will be silence, until I build my life, opening the page to a new chapter.


Torn Heart

Feeling down feeling low

I am the target today

I feel like I am spinning out of control

My powers all taken away.

My age has no matter

My wisdom be gone

You think I have no mind at all

My smiles you have turned upside down.

You believe you are all so wise

But I guarantee that you’re not

You have belittled me enough

You disrespectful little snot.

Now you have left  me ever so tired

Too weak to do a thing

No thoughts, no tears, come from within

No songs no hums to change this swing.

When you were only a small young child

The love I had would never part

Now you are grown and it only seems

You are here to break my heart.

I never dreamed it would be this way

I can remember  the day you were born

I held you in my arms with joy and love

And now my heart is torn.

One day my child I will be gone

No more love to share

You will look back at these days

And wish you could go back and repair.

Now you have children of your own

Please treat them with respect and love

And hope that when they have completely grown

They don’t turn on you like you did to your one above.


Terry Shepherd

English: Broken Heart symbol

English: Broken Heart symbol (Photo credit: Wikipedia)



Another Inch

A dishwasher containing clean dishes

A dishwasher containing clean dishes (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

We have crossed another inch  through the door way of truth  tonight. I was broken-hearted. I was broken because I had to tell my brother that he could not continue doing something he had done his whole adult life. A silly thing to you and me, but a serious thing to him. One of his routine chores Mom always had him do and up until tonight he has done it here also. The dishwasher. Sounds petty doesn’t it? It isn’t though. Al is getting so weak that he can not unload the dishwasher anymore without almost falling. You asks, well can’t you help him? Of course I can help him, but he gets angry with me, not wanting my help, wanting to do it himself. With his lack of coordination from his mental challenges, he can not figure out how to use his cane and walk the correct way to help keep himself standing, nor  can he do anything with one hand only. I was outside early this evening, watching my grandkids play in the pool. Al had gotten up from his nap and went straight to the kitchen and was unloading the dishwasher.When I came in to check on him, he was in a frozen mode and his feet were not moving, he was slanted over pretty far and seemed to be in a stuck position. The cane was nowhere in sight. I did find it across the kitchen leaning up against a wall, too far for him to reach. His knees were bent more than ever and he couldn’t push himself up. I rushed over to help him, reminding him that I need to be around when he is going to try something like this. He wants his own way, and I want mine. He wants to continue to do as he used to, and I want him safe. One fall, only one, is what is going to land him in the hospital with a fractured hip. I have seen it over and over many times, patients in nursing homes for the rest of their lives over one fall. Please don’t say that I don’t understand what it is like for him to have to give up things continually. I do, this is why my heart breaks. He is not only my brother, he is my patient. I have to mix my love along side of professional care. We all ate supper together, and he remained very quiet. I knew that he was angry with me, but I tried  my best to ignore it as I didn’t want to get into another scrap with others present. After they left, I finished up cleaning the kitchen and asked Al if he could get his shower over now since I had time. He agreed. All the while he cried and cried asking me why I was being so mean to him. I kept explaining the way Parkinson’s worked, and had him look at his own knees as they were so bent from him standing so I could wash his legs. It was like a light bulb turned on for him. He sobbed even harder as he asked me if he was going to have everything taken away from him. I said no Al, there are still many things you can do. You can walk still, you can dress yourself in the mornings, you can still use the bathroom by yourself. This is not what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that he could undo the dishwasher. I told him he could do it if he would let me help, which made him start yelling a little bit. He was frustrated with me and the disease. He ask me if he was going to get worse. Oh my God, he had brought up my worst fear, my worst topic. I sat down on the side of the tub and continued to dry him off and said, Al, I don’t know how much further this is going to make you tired, I don’t know the future for you. He said, I want to know, you have to tell me!!! I said there is a chance that you may someday, not be able to do things for yourself, but I will be here to help you all the way. That was it. He gave in. His whole body sobbed and shook. Tears were in my eyes also, as I knew I had broken his heart one more time. You may ask, why didn’t you just lie to him? If it were you, would you want to be lied to, when you already suspected the truth? I don’t think so. I finished dressing him and helped him get his toothpaste on his toothbrush. The crying stopped as fast as it came. He is in his room watching TV. These are the moments that exhaust me. These are the moments that people do not understand that I do nothing BUT take care of Al. Al is my brother, whom I love and also my patient. He has rights to the truth, when he ask an important question. He has rights to be treated with dignity, and he has rights to be loved. I have to make some pretty heavy decisions at times. Answer his questions when he is in his ten-year mental state, or answer them when he is in his adult state of mind. Tonight, I know I did the right thing, but I have the broken heart that follows. I don’t care what illness it is, it changes all of your life from the inside out.

The Bully Within

My emotions are split in  half today. Part of me is feeling anxiety, nerves on high, and the other half is inner tears and a broken heart. I try very hard to get all of our errands run on one day, but it doesn’t always end up that way. Today, for example. He needed medications. I called them in, and told them we would be in to pick them up around 1. I told him that we had to leave but we would eat lunch at his favorite spot. He didn’t smile. We arrived at our location and he slowly got out of the car, stumbling and falling back into the car door. He looked at me, with a fearful look, like I was going to say something. I said nothing. I waited. We made it to the entrance door, and I held it open for him. He fell backwards into me. I caught him, saying nothing. He stumbled his way, swaying back and forth like he was slightly drunk towards the waiting chair. I got the medications. He had to use the restroom, and as he got up he swayed again. I took a hold of the back of his shirt and lightly hung on to it, hoping in some way, that light hold would hold him up. He got mad, and started crying. He turned to look at me with huge tears in his eyes telling me I was treating him like a big baby. As I kept my hold, I explained how I was trying to help him stand. He was angry at me, and minced no words, and his voice was starting to raise, which I should not feel this way, but I feel embarrassment, as I know people can  hear him. My heart is breaking, as I find it often does, because he doesn’t realize how very close he is to becoming wheel chair bound. He resents my help, and yet I can not listen to what he says for fear of him falling on the cement floor. I pray so hard and so often. God, hear me, hear my cry of despair! Please, help him. Help him to not have to suffer like this! You are a merciful God. You know how he suffers emotionally and physically. Why are you waiting to fix this?? Take his tremors and throw them into the heavens. Let him rest Lord. Bring a peace over him, like no peace he has ever found. I am sorry, my tears are fuzzing my sight. I must end this story now. We are home. Right now he has forgotten all. I checked on him, and he is sleeping, but the Parkinson tremors are very much alive. Good nite.