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<\/a><\/p>\nI couldn’t get my mind off of this couple and the deep love they shared. \u00a0I asked my mom if she knew anything about them since she went out there almost every day. \u00a0She knew exactly who I was talking about, so I asked her if she thought they’d mind if I came and took a few photos of them. \u00a0I really thought it would be nice for them and their family to have some pictures of their deep connection. \u00a0My mom thought they would and encouraged me to talk to Mr. Weaver. \u00a0So I did. \u00a0He happily agreed, and so I met up with him out there one day over the lunch hour. \u00a0I quietly watched them as they went about their routine and just took pictures of them, hoping to capture the beautiful love I saw.<\/p>\n
Those of you with friends or family members dealing with Alzheimer’s disease know how horrible it can be. \u00a0You watch helplessly as the person you once knew becomes someone completely different. \u00a0Sometimes you are blessed with a few moments in which the fog has cleared, but more often than not, you’re interacting with the shell of the person who was once there. \u00a0Years ago, I remember visiting my Grandpa Schumaker. \u00a0Sometimes he would remember us, and sometimes he wouldn’t. \u00a0Even within one visit, within minutes, he’d go from knowing us, to living back in the past. \u00a0It’s heart wrenching. \u00a0Then we went through the whole thing again with my Grandpa Starofsky.<\/p>\n So as I watched Mr. Weaver, I was in awe of his patience and kindness while feeding his wife. \u00a0She struggled at times and even got frustrated, but there was nothing but love and admiration for her in his eyes. \u00a0He spoke to her softly and tenderly.<\/p>\n And then there are the hands. \u00a0I love photographing hands. \u00a0Think of all of the things your hands do over the course of your life time. \u00a0Looking at their hands, I imagined years of hard work and yet years of lovingly holding each others hands, facing the world together.<\/p>\n Years after the vows have been said, the honeymoon only a distant memory, and yet look at the way Mr. Weaver still looks at his wife. \u00a0He absolutely adores her. \u00a0I could see it in the way he looked at her, the way he tenderly touched her, the way he patiently fed her, the way he lovingly embraced her, and how he faithfully came to feed her lunch whether she knew who he was or not. \u00a0Guys, that’s what “I do” means. \u00a0For better, for worse, in sickness and in health….these two didn’t let the trials and troubles of life destroy their marriage. \u00a0As I watched Mr. Weaver choose to love his wife when she would possibly give nothing in return, I was in awe. \u00a0I can’t even imagine losing your spouse to Alzheimer’s. \u00a0What a legacy of love though that he faithfully loved his wife, giving her all of his love and admiration, expecting nothing in return. \u00a0I’m sitting here crying as I write this because my grandparents, parents and in-laws have all lived the example of a self sacrificing love in their marriages. \u00a0I hope that I can do the same in mine.<\/p>\n In these last photos, just look at Mr. Weaver’s love for his wife. \u00a0I chatted with him about her, and he talked about her like a giddy young man madly in love. \u00a0All he could say were good things about her. \u00a0Being that it’s been 4 years since that conversation, I don’t remember a whole lot of details from it, but there is one thing I do. \u00a0He said (not verbatim, but to the best of my recollection), “She was a singer…I mean, not a professional singer, but she had a lovely voice and would sing while she worked around the house. \u00a0I would stand at the bottom of the stairs and just listen to her singing upstairs.” \u00a0His eyes just gleamed as he talked about her and their life together.<\/p>\n Once Mr. Weaver finished feeding her lunch and just sitting enjoying each other’s company, he wheeled her back to her room as he did each day, and then proceeded to climb in bed with her and hold her. I didn’t take any pictures of those precious moments, and maybe he didn’t even mind and I should have, but I didn’t want to intrude on such an intimate and special time.<\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n<\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a> <\/a><\/p>\n