The Conversations that change us

Life can be moving along at a steady pace when, suddenly, something is said that changes everything.

The conversation may begin with words you've read in a book, a circumstance you never expected, an observation, a dream that lingers after you awaken, or something someone happens to say. Wherever it comes from, it shifts your thinking, changes your heart, or points you in a new direction.

There have been many conversations like that in my life—far too many to share in one blog—but one, in particular, has stayed with me.

About midway through Ernie's journey with Alzheimer's disease, he went through a period of quiet depression. Several times he told me he didn't want to become a burden to me or to our family. He knew the road ahead looked bleak.

One morning he quietly said, "I don't want to live anymore."

His words shook me. I immediately argued with him, reminding him how blessed we were to have life. He wouldn't listen, and I continued trying to convince him he was wrong. My thoughts were, How could he even say such a thing?

This pattern continued for days. He would express his fear, and I would argue back.

Then one morning I picked up the journal I had given him to practice writing each day. Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened it.

In his barely legible handwriting were these words:

"I wish Margo would understand my fear of life ahead."

I cried.

In that moment, I realized I had been listening to his words but not hearing his heart. He wasn't asking for me to solve his fear. He simply wanted me to understand it.

The next morning, as I carried his coffee and sweet treat to him—as I did every day while he lingered in bed—I sat on the edge of the bed, took his hand, looked into his eyes, and said,

"Ernie, I'm sorry for arguing with you. I understand now. I know you're afraid of what lies ahead. You're not alone, and I love you."

It wasn't a long conversation.

It didn't need to be.

Tears streamed down Ernie's cheeks as he pulled me into one of the most loving hugs we had ever shared.

"Thank you," he whispered over and over again.

That was it.

Nothing like that was ever said again.

His Alzheimer's continued to progress, as we knew it would, but something important had changed between us. I had stopped trying to change his feelings and started trying to understand them.

Sometimes the conversations that change our lives aren't the ones filled with advice or answers.

Sometimes they are simply the moments when another person finally feels heard.

Is there someone in your life who isn't looking for an answer—but simply hoping to be understood? Perhaps one conversation could change everything.

**If this message resonates with you, you'll find many of these ideas woven throughout my upcoming book, Crossroads: Reclaiming Identity When Life Changes Everything, arriving this fall.

Margo

Beyond the Now  www.Margo360.com