Tales From the Garden

I have a bottlebrush buckeye (a shrub) in my garden. I planted it several years ago; just two tiny twigs, probably about 8 inches tall. I wasn’t looking for this particular shrub for my garden when I brought it home, and I didn’t have a spot in mind for it either. I knew it would spread out, and I knew it preferred shade, so I stuck it in the “back woods” corner of my garden.

It didn’t do much for several years.

But. Look at it now! (Last year was the first year it bloomed.)
It seems quite happy!

It’s pretty spectacular, actually.
Yet, I have bittersweet feelings whenever I look at it.

My bottlebrush buckeye is a reminder of the final “garden adventure” I had with a special, long-time, gardening buddy. We each came home with small plantings of the shrub that day, inspired by one we saw in full bloom when we were visiting an out-of-town landscaping center near the lakeshore.

We used to do a lot of “garden adventures” together, my gardening buddy and I. Visiting special garden and landscape centers all over the state. Going on garden tours. Shopping the local cart sale. We were as familiar with each other’s gardens as we were with our own! We advised. We scouted. We shared. We bought plants for each other.

She was actually the first friend I made after chemo –  the first person I knew who hadn’t known me "before." We met at a Master Gardener event. She was very much an extrovert, and just . . . walked up and said, “Hey! I like your sweatshirt. Tell me about your garden.” And just like 6-year-olds at the playground, we became fast friends.

I haven’t seen her since just before the pandemic. We aren’t really . . . friends anymore. We didn’t have a falling out. We didn’t decide . . . not to be friends anymore. But, still, I lost her friendship. To dementia.

It happened gradually. Her personality changed. Never intimidated (she was an ultra-extrovert), her dementia loosened her up even more. She lost all her social filters. She said mean, judge-y things. To me, about me . . . but mostly to people around us. She acted inappropriately, embarrassingly in public. She knew we were friends, but she couldn’t remember how we were friends. She was always surprised when she found out I gardened, that - like her - I was a gardener, too. 

I wasn’t ready for this. I thought I was too young to lose friends to dementia! But . . . my gardening buddy was 12 years older than me. It happens.

Because of a number of . . . incidents . . . (and compounded by the pandemic) I decided it was in my best interest to step away from that friendship. I never imagined that I’d . . .  lose a friend that way. I’m still trying to process it all; trying to forgive myself for walking away from a person I didn’t recognize anymore, from someone who no longer recognized ME. 

So. My lovely bottlebrush buckeye? Anytime I look at it, I’m reminded of a beautiful gardening friendship full of fun memories. But it also . . . just makes me a little sad. 

Sometimes tales from the garden . . . are bittersweet.

(And if you’ve had an experience like mine - losing a friend to dementia - I’d love to hear how you managed.)

Comments

[kat]

Oh Kym! I am so sorry. I have had family members that have had dementia... it is so painful. Not being recognized well... it is soul-crushing. And "unknown visitors" seemed to just stress them so I eventually stopped visiting. The hurt was too great. (Of course that does not alleviate the guilt of making the decision to stop visiting... at all.) But I found sharing memories with those "left behind" are such a balm. I don't know if your friend had children, but I bet they'd love to see your bottlebrush plant and think about a couple of garden buddies and their incredible journeys together!

xo

[Bonny]

Thanks for sharing your bittersweet bottlebrush buckeye memories. When my mother was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, she had 12 brain tumors and a drastic personality change. Not exactly dementia, but there were some similarities. She had radiation to shrink the tumors, but the changes were wild. She didn't like cooked carrots but ate them first when she was served peas and carrots. She spent days preparing for her parents' visit, but they had been gone for decades, and there was no convincing her otherwise. She said what she thought, so I never knew if she was going to compliment my outfit, tell me I was fat, or threaten to call the police because she didn't know me and wanted me out of the house. Hospice told us to "tell her the truth gently" but not to upset her by insisting she was wrong. In some ways, it made it easier to say goodbye because that person was not my mother, but it was still difficult because it was my mother. (Memories are often nice, but they sure can be bittersweet.)

[Valerie]

Kym, I'm so sorry....that's a tough story. There is dementia in my family. It's a tough and confusing thing to go through with a family member, so with friends it can be more confusing especially in the early stages.

I do think that pandemic has been an accelerant for those who might be predisposed as I've noticed a couple of acquaintances slipping and have wondered how I should respond to them. Since they are part of larger groups and have not been close friendships, I've decided to be patient & kind and see how things unfold.

Perhaps it would help to think of your friendship with this person as a gardening metaphor....you had a lovely time while it was in season. Now that season is over. I do hope that she has significant others who assume the role of care taker for her, but that's not likely to be you.
Peace.

[Carole]

Your bottlebrush buckeye is lovely. And the story that goes along with it is important. At first, I was nodding my head in agreement and thinking of Doreen and I because, like you and your friend, we know each other's gardens like we know our own. There's more to our friendship, as you know, gardening is something we both came to when we became home owners and it's something that we have bonded over but it's not THE common interest we share. Then your story took a turn I didn't anticipate. I have not experienced losing a friend to dementia and I can honestly say it's not something I've even considered until reading this post. It must be heartbreaking in a myriad of ways. I saw a few mentions of family members with dementia, and I have some experience with that as my mother-in-law had Alzheimer's. But I think losing friends is different than family members and the grief process feels very different because it's a contemporary and it hits home in a more poignant way. I'm not sure any of this was helpful but I am holding space for you as you navigate your feelings about losing this friendship.

[Margene]

The terror of dementia is so close (due to age) and often you know people who are suffering or who are dealing loved ones who they are loosing. The disease is frightening and frustrating. May the beautiful shrub remind you of the good times you spent with your friend. The bottle brush is a lovely way to honor your time together.

[Marilyn]

I'm losing a gardening friend to old age and memory loss. Over the years we have done a lot of walking our yards and looking at how things are doing. And as she quit gardening, she gave me a lot of plants from her garden. She lives close by and is pretty much homebound now but I take immense enjoyment from seeing "her" plants thrive and the diversity they add to my garden. Your friend has changed from a great gardening partner to a new person that doesn't know you any more or at least not in the same way. It's best to move on because it is upsetting to you and possibly to her as well since she doesn't recall your past experiences.

[Suzanne]

I'm so sorry about your friend, dementia is awful. Remember all the great times you enjoyed gardening together. The plant is so pretty and hopefully will become a reminder of the fun times you had.

My mother has dementia and is 95. She doesn't know who I am, but she is still at home with my father and me. It is very hard every day. I don't really garden but I do have a few plants that I enjoy having around and I enjoy seeing the gardens of others.

[Chloe]

I knew someone with dementia who was not a close friend (I was merely a casual observer) and who definitely did not have a filter. The family and close friend who cared for her were able to accept her condition, it seemed, but not without a lot of sadness. And a lot of patience. I’m not sure if I would have the fortitude to wrestle this violently rebellious “frail”old lady into the shower at least once a week as that friend did. We are all different. Circumstances are different. Losing friends is hard, however it happens. If you are like me, losing a friend that is an extrovert when you may be an introvert is especially hard, because it is always nice to get some of that special extrovert fairy dust sprinkled on you (me) to open the world a little wider. I don’t think there are any magic answers. Sometimes it is only time itself that smooths out the sadness, however cliché it sounds. And I think Valerie’s idea of the gardening metaphor is a great suggestion to get over the hump. To everything there is a season…whether we like it or not.

[Chloe]

Hope that last sentence did not sound too harsh. I’ve had plenty of “not like it”s myself. No fun. And acceptance is hard.

[Sarah]

I'm sorry, Kym. It must be hard to look at this lovely shrub and remember both a good friend and the loss of that friendship. I haven't lost a friend to dementia, but for the last few years of her life, my grandmother had no idea who I was and was upset when she couldn't place me. It was so upsetting when I went to visit her and she didn't remember me that I didn't visit again, and I still feel bad about that. My mother continued to see her regularly, even though my grandmother didn't recognize her, either, and now I have a fuller appreciation of how difficult that must have been for her. Dementia is such a cruel thing to take our loved ones away from us while they're physically still there.

[Susanne]

I empathize greatly with your memory of your friend. I too have lost "friends" to dementia. In particular, Alzheimer's disease. I have two older siblings. I am the youngest by 8 years from my brother and 6 years from my sister. I have always been considered the "baby" of the family. Both my siblings are residing in Memory Care units in Calgary. It is extremely scary for me but sadly my brother no longer recognizes me and has become completely non verbal. My sister is still verbal and does recognize me but within a few hours will not remember who visited her or spent time with her.
I feel I have already lost them in many ways. however I also do keep "hope" alive.
It is a cruel, cruel disease.

[Vicki]

I'm so sorry, Kym. I have not experienced dementia among friends, but my dad, his brother, and both parents suffered... each one a little differently, all similarly heartbreaking. It's so terrible.