Door. I travelled to see a loved one this week who has been diagnosed with dementia. She and a male friend had her door barricaded shut with a chair. After a second knock, the man removed the chair which was wedged under the door knob and opened the door.
With this disease, I am never certain what I will encounter before I pass through her door. . .
During my visit, she showed me pictures of a man to whom she was once married. She told me, “He was so nice to me.” Having lived with this man she was referring to for several years while growing up, I know, for a fact, he was often not nice to her, his wife, as he had extreme sexist beliefs which manifested into condescending remarks and infidelity.
I had always joked with this woman after this marriage had ended that she had now transformed into a man hater of sorts since she often exclaimed, “I don’t need any man!”
This week I witnessed that her door on those negative memories with him had now closed, or, at the very least, for the time we sat together on her bed and sorted through pictures.
In my forty-three years, God has presented me with a plethora of doors to open and walk through with my entire being. Some I have entered with no thought to the consequences, some I have attempted to hold shut, and some doors I have clawed at wishing they would open just one more time . . . one more time. Door.