Luc Gagnon is a psychoeducator at the Douglas Institute. In 2003, he learned that his father had Alzheimer's disease. He decided to keep a journal to record the few precious moments  of lucidity that his father would still be able to share. Two years later, Luc gathered his writings under the title "Papa, mama, the maid and I," a collection filled with humour and tenderness. The series is being published during the Alzheimer Awareness Month.

November 2004 - A few days ago, we moved my father into a private nursing home. As I found and selected the home, I knew I was about to make one of the most important decisions of my life. The time he spent in hospital did him a world of good physically. He is no longer one of the “weakest making the mightiest efforts as death approaches.” He is not moving into the home because he is sick; even his Alzheimer’s has stabilized. He is moving for mama. She has no problem visiting him, but she can no longer live with him. The summer almost destroyed her. Papa is simply not the same, and that kills her a little each day.

I’ve called the nursing home this evening to let them know that I’ll be dropping by, despite the late hour, to drop off the rest of papa’s medications. I drive into the small parking lot in front of the house, and by the time I pick up the bag of medication, I get this funny feeling that I am being watched. I look up, and directly in front of me I see five or six faces in the front window, looking out. They all have their eyes fixed on me. Some are smiling, including papa, who waves. One or two of the others also wave. I feel like I’m in a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, with its band of joyful inmates at the psychiatric hospital.

I don’t know what to think. I’m still evaluating the home, and it’s all new to me. If this is how the residents react to the arrival of a visitor, they must not see many. I go inside, and I soon understand. If they were gathered at the window, it had nothing to do with me, it was to watch a beautiful lunar eclipse! Whew! Not only am I relieved to know it is not for a lack of visitors, I’m especially relieved because, well, joining the gang to gaze out the window at the eclipse is yet another example of how life will always find a way to get through…