She

She

“She”

I love music… Setting aside the beauty of music, it allows you to express every emotion through a song and feel good about it!  The first time I heard “She”, sung by Elvis Costello, I immediately thought of a man singing to his wife, lover, friend.  Of course I saw the video with Elvis singing to images of Julia Roberts.  I was so taken by the simplicity of the theme, “She”, I started to delve into the actual words and meaning. So much of the thoughts expressed in this song I relate to as a caregiver for my mother and father. “The face I can’t forget”, “the trace of pleasure or regret”.  Caregiving for a loved one is so mixed with pleasure and regret. The ups and downs we experience as a caregiver is the ride we take. There is no option when you care about someone. “She – may be the beauty or the beast, may be the famine or the feast”. I relate this to my father, “He”, if you will.  My dad had Alzheimer’s and his emotional rollercoaster made him the beauty and at times, the beast which could turn “each day into a heaven or a hell”.

Both my parents were the “mirror of my dreams”.

“She, May be the reason I survive, The why and wherefore I’m alive,
The one I’ll care for through the rough in ready years”. With this verse, I need say no more….

“Me, I’ll take her laughter and her tears, And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I’ve got to be, The meaning of my life is,  she”.  This last verse is the driving force of the caregiver. I would like to dedicate this song to all caregivers and their loved ones.  “She” and “He”.

By Karen Betz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O040xuq2FR0&feature=kp

She

written by Charles Aznavour & Herbert Kretzmer

May be the face I can’t forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
She
May be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

She
May be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell

She
Who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one’s allowed to see them when they cry
She
May be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I’ll remember till the day I die

She
May be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I’m alive
The one I’ll care for through the rough in ready years
Me
I’ll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I’ve got to be
The meaning of my life is

She

Advocate Change for the Dangerously Low Percentage of Transitional Care Recommendations noted in Discharge

Food at Her Fingertips, but Nothing to eat

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