Friday, October 30, 2015

"I'm not going to baby. I'm going to courage."

Disneyland October, 1973

Who are those kids in that photo? And was it really taken 42 years ago? How is that possible?

I'm Scott Veatch. My wife Mona and I met in college in the fall of 1972. Rio Hondo College. Whittier, CA. We were in choir together and the semester was about a week old when I began overhearing the concerns. "Where is Mona?" "Is Mona coming back this semester?" "We gotta have Mona."

I remember wondering who this Mona girl was. Mona? I'd never known anyone named Mona. What's so special about Mona? The second week of the semester she strolled into the choir room and it was obvious from the start that "this Mona girl" was Queen Bee of the choir. The Superstar. The redhead with the beautiful soprano voice. The one who got all the solos. I still remember the first time I saw her; she was wearing a yellow dress. A redhead in a yellow dress? That should be illegal.

We got to know each other over the next few months and became pretty good friends. But I never thought of dating her because, well -- we were just friends. One night in March 1973 she stopped by the apartment I was sharing with my buddy Ray to leave some sheet music. She only stayed a few minutes but after she shut the door and left I turned to Ray and said, "Someday I'm gonna marry that girl." What? Where did that come from? "Someday I'm gonna marry that girl." We hadn't even dated. I'd never really thought about dating her. But, those are the words that came out of my mouth. 

"Someday I'm gonna marry that girl."

Our first date was a few weeks later on my 20th birthday and we've been together ever since. I stop to think about that every so often, that the last time I was with someone else I was a teenager. We dated for a little more than a year, got engaged Labor Day weekend in 1974 and were married February 1, 1975. We've been married 40 years. Three daughters, eight grandchildren -- and 40 years with my best friend. 

John Lennon once wrote that life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans, and in early 2007 "life" happened to us. That's when Mona was diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. She was 55. It's been almost nine years and she and I have had quite the journey during that time. The disease has progressed into the latter stages and she's now in a nursing home. Alzheimer's has robbed her of the ability to communicate clearly but she still has moments when her words make me laugh, get me choked up, and give me hope.

I admit it's tough. She cries a lot when we're together -- not from sadness but from the emotions gathered over the past 40 years. If I'm with her an hour she'll tell me she loves me 60 times, and how handsome and kind she thinks I am. And while it's hard for her she always works to assure me that she's all right and that she doesn't want me to worry. A few weeks ago while we were sitting together in the nursing home she looked at me and said, "I'm not going to baby. I'm going to courage." In other words, I'm not going to be a baby about this. I'm going to face it with courage.

There's a scene in the Steve Martin movie "Parenthood" where, in the midst of some family chaos, the elderly grandmother -- the one everyone thinks is senile -- shares some words of wisdom. She recalls the times she went to the carnival when she was a girl and how her favorite ride was the roller coaster. She said -- and I'm paraphrasing here -- that some people liked the merry-go-round but that ride was boring because it just took you around in a slow circle. Give me the roller coaster, the grandmother said. It has slow climbs and steep drops and unexpected curves. It makes you scream, takes your breath away, makes you want to throw up -- but it also makes you feel alive.

I've learned some things these past nine years. I've learned about faith, and patience, and perseverance and priorities and gratitude. I'm so thankful that one day I did, indeed, "marry that girl". She's taught me that when "life" happens it can terrify you, take your breath away, make you want to throw up, but you can still face it with courage.

If life is happening to you at the moment I hope you can get some encouragement here. I hope we both can. 

 "I'm not going to baby. I'm going to courage."



7 comments:

  1. This is beautiful,so spiritually strengthening. Thank you.

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  2. You write beautifully and with a natural honesty. Because we have gone through similar experiences with this disease you already know prayers and fond memories are being sent from me. I am proud of you being open to an opportunity for God to bless you both as you help others. Isn't this what our suffering is supposed to do?

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  3. You write beautifully and with a natural honesty. Because we have gone through similar experiences with this disease you already know prayers and fond memories are being sent from me. I am proud of you being open to an opportunity for God to bless you both as you help others. Isn't this what our suffering is supposed to do?

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  4. Thank you for sharing your lovely thoughts with us...the beautiful agony. It helps us all. May God strengthen you both.

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  5. Besutiful just beautiful !!!
    You both will be in my prayers ��

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  6. Besutiful just beautiful !!!
    You both will be in my prayers ��

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  7. This is beautiful, Scott. And in the more recent post, I loved seeing Mona as Rally Mom. I haven't seen her since I heard the news, and I was so glad to at least see her here. Thank you for writing and bringing old friends closer to you both.

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