Is the Motown music queued up? Yes? Good.

My lunch this week is not the only highlight. It was what led up to the lunch that still makes me smile. Monday, November 11^th was Veterans Day. The day to remember, honor and give gratitude to those who either voluntarily or involuntarily served in the military.

While I did not serve in the military, I am an active and avid supporter. My pedigree is that of many generations who were drafted or volunteered. My husband, brother and cousins all joined voluntarily. My Dad was drafted for the Vietnam War. My Grandfather joined prior to being drafted into World War II. My Great Grandfather, well, we aren’t entirely sure – he served in World War I nonetheless.

From a young age, I wanted to understand more about the Vietnam War. I am extremely fortunate in that my Dad willingly talked with me about it. Not all children are as lucky. Many don’t know the stories of heroics and even tedium. The stories of how their parent received letters from family and loved ones at critical moments. Or how when it felt like there wasn’t a lot to do a card game would break out and Fred learned about Joe’s hometown. Then there are the stories of having to kill another human being because they were going to kill you and your buddy first. The myriad of stories are there, and many have sadly moved on to the grave.

Why does the Motown music matter? If you recall, my lunch from Coffee Break: Week 44 was with my friend Pam. Prior to lunch we visited her Dad, Uncle Mike as I call him, at his assisted living facility. Fast forward, time and circumstances have changed.

Uncle Mike is a Marine. (I learned a long time ago that one never leaves the Marines. Once a Marine, always a Marine.) A few weeks ago, Pam and her sister Kathy were taking Uncle Mike to the VA Hospital Clinic for a doctor appointment. In Seattle, there is a transit service for those people needing special assistance. Uncle Mike was in the process of trying to get off the bus with his motorized wheelchair. Kathy was confused why he wasn’t emerging from the bus. She climbed in and he looked at her bewildered. He said, “I can’t make the chair move.” She saw he couldn’t connect the simple task from his brain to his hand. Soon Pam got on the bus and assessed the situation. She looked at him and said “Dad, smile at me.” When he failed to perform that simple command, she instantly knew. Without hesitation they alerted the staff and he was rushed into the ER. Talk about a fortunate moment. Uncle Mike had a stroke at the hospital.

The next days he continued to have mini-strokes or TIAs. Not an uncommon situation for stroke patients. Uncle Mike also has dementia. With the stress from the strokes, the dementia was very prevalent. Not only was it a scary time for the family, the dementia made it that much more stressful. Pam texted me about his struggle to remember different facts and moments. I figured this was my chance to evangelize about something I believe in whole-heartedly, music and memory. I encouraged Pam and her family to play Uncle Mike’s favorite music. She instantly lit up – Motown! Playing a patient’s favorite music calms the system. And while recall of the current day or person sitting across from them may be a struggle, music is always in the soul. Therefore, a dementia or Alzheimer’s patient can tell you story after story of when they were 18 listening to something like say, Motown music.

When Pam said that she and her sister were going to visit their dad on Veterans Day at the VA Hospital, I jumped at the chance. As we walked into the communal area, he lit up like a Christmas tree. “My girls are here! And they brought Heather.” I don’t think a prouder Papa moment ever existed prior. Their very presence reassured him that all was well with the world. After the exchange of hugs and pleasantries, he paused a couple of times and grinned. “Kathy is here and Pam is here.”

I looked around the community room and saw human souls, human spirits. Men and even one woman who, no matter what was on the outside, they all shared the same on the inside – they served their country. Some for a brief time, others for a lot longer. Some were officers, some were ‘grunts’.

We spent the time laughing and talking about everything under the sun. While we sat at a table, one gentleman wheeled himself in and out of our conversations. I am one who does my best to BE in the moment and listen. He talked and I listened to his range of tales. Apparently, I reminded him of a few things from his past, his brother’s passion for music and a TV reporter.

I did my best to share the time with everyone who stopped by. I listened to their stories. One man was 9 years sober after having been an addict of varying degrees for 34 years. I made sure to tell him how fantastic that was. I have friends who are in recovery – every day is a choice.

When we went to leave, I made it a point to shake the hand of a patient named Steve. I had a catch in my throat when I did. As best I could, I looked at him while holding his hand and said “Welcome Home, Steve.” He slowly bowed his head and then looked up and said “Thank you. It’s good to be home.” (…now I am typing through tears…)

I do my very best to not cheapen or chastise those who served. I struggle to say, “Thank you for your service.” I never, ever want to sound disingenuous. For me, it is far better for me to show through volunteerism and support than to say several words that may sound insincere at times.

My Dad taught me a long time ago how awful it was to serve in the Vietnam War. Not in the war itself, while horrendous, it was the coming home to criticism, anger, insults and lack of caring. A Vietnam Vet was rarely, if ever met with a ticker-tape parade. The one phrase a Vietnam Vet never heard was “Welcome Home.” Two words. That is all.

It’s still hard for me to utter those two words. Less because I can’t say them and more because I transport back to an unimaginable time. I cannot begin to understand what a soldier in that era endured. I do my best to be compassionate – it’s all I have. Oh, and two words… “Welcome Home.”

Seeing how happy Uncle Mike was made my week. As we sat around the table there was a moment that seemed insignificant to me, and I saw Pam well up with tears. Uncle Mike was signing a paper for a photo release. Seemed kind of routine to me. Then it hit me. I turned to Pam and knew – he couldn’t sign his name a few weeks ago. I thought because of the dexterity from the stroke. Pam shook her head, “No Heather, he couldn’t remember his last name.” Then it was my turn for watery eyes. It was such a personal and deep moment. I think then is when I truly felt like I was part of a family.

It’s not easy living on the other side of the country from my family. There are moments that social media can’t soothe. Times when familiar laughter is non-existent. Or you don’t have the ‘remember whens’ with someone. That day, with Pam, Kathy and Uncle Mike, my hurt and loneliness began to ease.

Pam, Kathy and I left the VA Hospital with promises to return or visit soon. We – and thanks for hanging on this long – went to lunch. Lunch is the focus of my blog. This one, was extra special. I’ve known Pam for almost 10 years. I met Kathy that day. I began to realize that we walked and talked like we had known each other forever. Even though our conversations were getting me up to speed on the family dynamics. There was something effortless in their words. It’s like I knew and understood.

We ate a Mexican restaurant that Pam and Kathy highly recommended. It was among the best I’ve ever been to in Seattle. It is not easy to find good, authentic Mexican food in Seattle. I cannot tell you why.

We never tired of the conversations. Each topic led to a new direction, new discovery. I was with women who understood me, and I understood them. Again, I was their sister, cousin or niece – it didn’t matter- I was family.

I did my best to BE in the moment. To relish the happiness. To listen to their comparison stories of how Uncle Mike was 3 weeks ago, to how his was today. They know theirs will not be an easy road. As if aging isn’t already difficult, the risks of stroke are still present and the depleting of Uncle Mike’s mind through the dementia is most prevalent on their hearts. Yet their resolve to work together is incredible. They still find time to laugh about family, talk about children and vacations. Kathy dreams of retirement soon.

Life does not stop because circumstances navigate you onto a new path.

This lunch was extremely meaningful to me for two reasons, I got to thank and support Veterans. And, I got to feel like I was part of a family. Both are precious to me.

My hope is that you have people in your life like Pam, Kathy and Uncle Mike. Individuals who embrace and enfold you into their arms and into their hearts. Who exemplify the phrase, Live, Laugh, Love.

Until next week…

Peace. Love and Rock n Roll…