Author Wayne A. Ewing found a surprising “full-ness” while traveling with his wife, the late Ann Margaret Wentz Ewing, Ph.D., into and through the land of forgetfulness. As her husband, companion, and 24/7 caregiver during her five years of dementia decline, Ewing’s own experiences resulted in shifts not only in daily routine but also in his spiritual life. Beyond the exhaustion, sorrow and labor came moments of awareness and unexpected clarity he shares with readers who may be in any caregiving situation.

Wayne A. Ewing

Inspired by the appropriate Psalm 88:12 “Are your wonders known in the darkness or your help saving belong in the land of forgetfulness,” Ewing crystallizes his moments of clarity into 24 meditations comprising his book, In the Land of Forgetfulness: Meditations on Dementia Care as Spiritual Formation. Ewing, a retired Episcopal priest living near Westcliffe, combines his distillations with references to the thoughts of early mystics and philosophers who wrote over centuries of the interior dimensions of the spirit.

Organized into seven parts, the meditations present stages in caregiving as well as key questions that arise and continue to arise as people face the process and concerns of dementia caregiving. Ewing is careful to discuss the warning signs of dementia and is alert to the current research, familiar with aids and publications for caregivers. The author’s own priestly preparation and counseling profession make for studious reading. He came to realize that Alzheimer’s is a “brain disease, a devastating neurological storm” not a “disease of the soul but a soulful disease.”

His thoughts focus upon positive outcomes from a chaotic and prolonged experience.  Although a small book, it is a powerful one and not a book to read quickly for a host of reasons: the intensely serious nature of the topic; the wrestling with complex spiritual or universal concepts or assumptions; the erudition of the author who takes the time to introduce readers to more than a dozen mystics and contemplative writers such as Teresa of Avila, Bernard of Clairvaux, Hildegard of Bingen, and more; and the reader’s immediate recognition of the inevitable end for his own or any Beloved.

The meditations’ pace parallels the steady descent of Ewing’s wife, Ann. Beginning with the dreadful diagnosis and disbelief, the couple move downward through disheartening moments when Ann no longer recognizes her husband but trusts his care, or when she awakens at midnight realizing that “I am no longer Ann Margaret Wentz Ewing, Ph.D.” As they journey together, Ewing finds spiritual richness in many moments. Each moment was his here, when both were present and together.

Their sometimes twice daily walk around their Colorado mountain home provided Ann with time to move along the trail, to see the latest wildflower bloom, to comment upon the petal’s softness, or to enjoy the further distant sky and mountain range views. Instead of focusing on Ann’s slow pace and repetition, Ewing remains silent, realizing that “this single moment is all we have.” As Ann moves away, Wayne discovers that her spirit and appreciation for beauty, the simplicity of what she can accomplish and her hard work to do simple tasks bring about a startling spiritual change in him.

Later, she would say, “Everything is too large today.” He found her perception, though unbidden, “an insight into how Ann was experiencing our shared time; a gift in grasping how the ordinary world was unfolding in her diminishing yet extraordinary mind.” Clarity in the midst of chaos.

Steadfast, gentle and kind, Ewing, understandably, could be worn, disillusioned and weary. He recalls the last times they laughed, felt silly or made love. One day, however, while washing her hair, he realizes that her disease has brought firsts as well: the first time he washed her hair, sorted her clothes or dressed her. Although he cannot dismiss the questions of why, where does the spirit live, and how does the soul change, he recognizes times marked by “unwavering love and accepted dependency.” As Ann declines, his spirit enlarges in response. Their loving bond sustains him.

“I remember the prescience of my Beloved in something she said to me shortly before the medical counsel … ‘I don’t think,’ Ann mused, ‘ I’m going to make it to the end of my life.’” She did not but she remains paired and locked in her husband’s memory and spirit even now.

Ewing concludes: “It is possible still, that our sorrow is addressed from beyond us, … voices that speak to us soulfully, not of delivery or escape, but of immersion … into our Beloved’s land of forgetfulness—a place where, yes, the Holy might live before us, within us, beside us.”