Six months ago, I had to send my beloved wife to a memory care facility as her Alzheimer’s worsened, leaving our home painfully quiet. Yet every Sunday, my next-door neighbor would knock once on my door and immediately walk away.
After six months, I finally waited behind the door and confronted him, demanding to know why he kept doing it. Instead of answering, he handed me a folded note written in my wife’s handwriting, dated just before she left.
She had written, “To the man next door. My husband always answers the door when the bell rings, even when he’s tired. After I move away, please ring the bell once every Sunday. I’m not asking you to visit or explain anything.
Because if he gets up and walks to the door, it means he’s still getting up. And if he’s still getting up, then he’s still trying.” I read the note twice, overwhelmed by the realization that even as Alzheimer’s was taking pieces of her away, my wife had still been thinking about how to keep me going. The following Sunday, I stood by the door and opened it before the knock even came.
