I was sitting with a client who lives with dementia one day in her room. She is already to the stage where language is hard for her, so a lot of our communication is non-verbal; touch, eye contact, head nods, smiles.
I was pointing out some things in her room that I knew were important to her when I saw her eyes light up. She started to try to stand. I asked “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
She didn’t really answer, but was suddenly determined to stand. I helped her maneuver through her wheelchair without falling and quickly grabbed her walker. She grabbed ahold of it and took off. At this point, I was still thinking I needed to help her to the bathroom.
When she walked by the bathroom, I said “did you need to go in there (pointing).” “No!” She said clearly and kept walking. I followed her.
As she walked her determined, fast paced gait started to turn more into a shuffle. Her shoulders started to shimmy and her face broke out with a smile.
Then I heard it. Music.
We rounded the corner and the retirement home had a live singer performing
She had heard it all the way from her room and it literally moved her.
She kept walking until she got right to the “front row,” standing right in front of the performer. Dancing. Stomping to the beat. Singing. Laughing.
Of course I joined her!
I could go on and on about the power of music… but what caused me to pause this day was how much I could relate.
Suddenly I saw so clearly a much younger version of her that still lives in her. A girl who has stars in her eyes. A girl who is free. A girl who drops what she’s doing to let the music move her.
This is something I can relate to. I thought of all the times I’ve stopped (probably mid-conversation with folks) and ran towards music or the dance floor — worried about nothing but feeling the music in my soul and allowing it to lead movement in my body.
In that moment, we both were that girl. Together. In different stages in (real) life, but the same person in this moment.
Moments like this remind me, we’re not that different — the little girl dancing like no one’s watching, the teenager who hears her favorite song, the Mom who heard that song that awakens her soul, the woman who finds herself dancing in a home her kids have moved out of, the elder who’s only language left is music.
We are all her. That never changes. In the hard moments, this is something I hold closely to my heart. These are the moments when I remember, I am here for a reason. I belong here.
-Janie
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