The Beauty of Presence

I started writing this post after I had been living at home with my parents in California for about four months. Their house is very full - both of my sisters are at home, and my grandparents (my father's parents) live with them in their own separate apartment downstairs. This was always the plan when my parents bought our house over 16 years ago. No, they didn't plan on having three adult children at home, but they bought the house with my grandparents in mind. They moved in with us 7 years ago, and it has been a blessing having them home with us. We always lived within 3 miles of them, so having them close was nothing new, and I instantly loved being able to just walk downstairs to visit with them, and share in my grandmother's traditional Portuguese cooking.

My grandparents enjoying each others' company before her dementia worsened

However, in the last couple of years, my grandmother's health has deteriorated, and she now struggles with the daily cross of dementia/Alzheimer's. Although it has been a blessing having her in the same house where my father and our family can help care for her, it has also been a great cross and trial for him, his brother (who lives nearby and often comes over to help as well), and the rest of our household. My grandmother often thinks that she is back in Portugal, but does not recognize her own home, and will try to leave the house to walk home to her mother's house in Faial (the Portuguese Island where she was raised), which she believes is nearby. In her altered state, she often has fits of hysteria and crying, and I can only imagine her pain and confusion as she cries out through sobs: "I want to go home; I'm alone and scared; I don't know why my family is punishing me by sending me here alone without my family; I think the people here are trying to poison me; they want to kill me; I want to go home..."

Many times, while I was living at home, I had the blessing of helping calm her down during several of these fits. I say blessing because, despite her anguish and the difficulty in witnessing her pain, I saw through it the beauty of the Cross, and how close she must be to Jesus in those moments. The words of Psalm 22 come to mind:

"My God, my God, why have you abandoned me? All who see me mock me; they curl their lips and jeer; they shake their heads at me..."

 As Catholics, we often speak of uniting our suffering to Christ's suffering on the Cross, but even we sometimes forget the value and beauty of those times of suffering that we do not choose, but are inherently linked to Christ's suffering. The suffering of my grandmother is just one of those times. There is a beauty in it in that it may end up being the moment in her life in which she is most united to Christ.

And, what can one do in the presence of such suffering? I found that with my grandmother, the only thing I could do for her was to be present to her.

Because of the nature of her suffering, it is almost always useless to try to explain to her that she is not in Portugal, but in California, and that she is not abandoned, but among family who loves her. The difficulty is often compounded by the fact that she reverts to speaking almost exclusively Portuguese in such moments, and although I know some, it is only enough to understand about half of what she is saying. So, I sit with her. I hold her hand. I tell her that I love her, and won't leave her alone. Any other speaking between the two of us is minimal, and most of it is not understood by either of us anyway. But love is a universal language, and it is in those moments that I can speak to her through my love, expressed by my presence.

It is also in those moments that I feel the intense love of God stirring in my heart, and I realized that this is one of the fullest expressions of love - pure presence. I do not see it as wasting time, although by outward appearances I am simply sitting with her not "doing" anything. I am simply being present to her. Loving her. And I believe this is one of the truest forms of love, and one which we see in the life of Christ as well.

Those closest to Christ, who loved Him enough to stick by Him during His passion and death on the Cross could do nothing to relieve or ease His suffering - but they loved Him merely by their presence with Him at the foot of the Cross.

In those moments with my grandmother, I came to fully understand the meaning of contemplation, and of loving Christ in the Eucharist without any expectation of receiving anything from Him during my prayer. When we mature in our faith and spiritual life, we reach a point where the Lord asks this of us. Although we may often experience times of great grace and consolation in prayer, feeling the intense love and presence of God when we pray, and perhaps benefiting from any number of gifts He may be giving us as a fruit of our prayer, this is not the best way to love God. We are called to love God for Himself, not merely for His gifts. Similarly, we are called to love others for who they are, and not what we can get from them.

This is they key to loving - be present to those you love, and love them without expectation of gaining something in return. Similarly, in your prayer, seek to love God purely - be present to Him, seek Him, but don't give up because you don't "feel" like you are gaining anything by it. You are inevitably gaining something - you are growing in love.

"If I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing...Love is patient, love is kind...it does not seek its own interests...It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails." (1 Corinthians 13:2-8)