I found the days getting longer and my friends getting fewer as my husband's illness became worse. The friends I had made years ago stood by me, but the more recent ones faded away like leaves in the autumn. It was the autumn of our lives. Those of us who take care of other people made a commitment that lasts until that person either goes into a retirement home or dies. The days are long and the friends become fewer.

People who stopped by to visit or play music or to leave off something, don't come around anymore.

It's not the friends' fault. They don't know how to handle the situation. They are embarrassed or don't know what to say. It's easier not to visit. The conversation isn't as interesting, the notes on the instruments don't come out the same way and sound different from before.

As the illness advances, the caregiver is imprisoned. He or she becomes lonely and finds personal relationships less gratifying. "Shades of the prison house" (Wordsworth's "Imitations of Immortality") enclose the caregiver. Family members often can't find time to visit or to stay for an hour, so that the caregiver can go out for an appointment. The world becomes a less friendly place.

The bright shiny days of retirement become a drag as more time is required to to remain home. One's inner resources are much needed to continue with a meaningful life. Some friends do linger and are helpful. They give an added pleasure to the times when one can escape for a few hours from the endless round of care giving.

If friends knew how much each visit meant, how much each hour away from home can give a caregiver reprieve from washing, shopping for medicine, and for bananas and cereal. Each trip to the beauty salon and each meal out with friends, or a cup of tea in the afternoon, breaks the daily rounds at home. Children and friends become too busy to visit. Yet, the caregiver's life is turned upside down and is less satisfying.

As the shadows close in on the patient, the caregiver has less time for a break. The shadows of a mind working on half steam can also bring on depression.

The caregiver gets the complaints of the wrong food, the television is too loud, too soft, the shades of darkness infect the caregiver. The world becomes in all of its beauty, a sad and lonely place.

Yet, a telephone call can brighten one's day. A note from a friend, an invitation for tea or for lunch, can make all the difference. The caregiver is not forgotten.

Someone in the bright world beyond still wants to see the person who gives so much time and thought into taking care of someone whose world is growing smaller. Someone in the world of men and women, dogs, horses, and birds remembers.

I walk in the shadows, but beyond them there is hope. Someone has remembered. Someone has cared for me and wishes to see me once again. Someone in the bright world beyond mine, came and offered me a hand and a little bit of love.

Someone understood that I walk in the shadows, and gave me some light.