Midwest Mary

Five years ago today, my husband squeezed my hand and breathed his last breath. In some ways, it feels as though he passed away yesterday. In others, it’s a lifetime ago.

Marshall was a local celebrity having produced dozens of Marshall Brodien magic sets. He played the character, Wizzo, a wacky magician, on WGN TV Chicago’s children’s program, The Bozo Show. He also owned lounges and restaurants when he was in his 30s to 50s.

Outside of our home, Marshall was tuned into entertainer mode. He told jokes and performed little magic tricks for sales clerks, nurses, waitresses, neighbors, and anyone else he could entice into his circle. After developing Alzheimer’s, this situation became concerning for me because he could be abrupt or inappropriate. I didn’t want his fans to perceive him negatively. He worked too hard to build his image.

Inside the house, he was my Marshall–except while entertaining the streams of guests he invited to see his magic museum.

Marshall was wonderful to my three children, which was very meaningful to me. He had a special relationship with my son, Joey. Joe is the youngest and therefore was home with us the longest. Joe and Marshall would play pranks on each other, watch sports, work on little projects, and simply enjoy each other’s company.

In the mornings, Marshall worked in his office on prototypes for his magic sets and called friends and business acquaintances. He had a computer for a few years but could do little on it. He read emails and would ask me to respond for him. He was never on the Internet or Facebook as some were led to believe by people who impersonated him.  

Marshall thought I was his secretary. He’d dictate letters, ask me to make calls for him or tell me how to make our travel plans. We were privileged to enjoy many fabulous vacations together.

Marshall also kept busy in his 1,000-square-foot museum in our basement. He’d dust and rearrange memorabilia while listening to Tony Bennet and Frank Sinatra music. The museum was his haven and reminder of his long career in magic.

Later in the day, Marshall sat in his easy chair while I cared for the plants, cleaned, cooked, and baked. He was a bachelor for twenty-five years before we married, so he was very appreciative of our family life and the home-cooked meals I served.

And he loved desserts, especially my homemade ice cream and fudge sauce. He’d often go for a second bowl claiming he didn’t remember the first. In retrospect, that may have been true.

After dinner, Marshall and I would go for a walk and then relax in the family room. He watched crime shows, which I found disturbing, so I’d read or quilt on the sofa near him. And we’d talk. Marshall was kind, easygoing, and funny. He made me laugh even on the rough Alzheimer’s days.

Unfortunately, Alzheimer’s symptoms began interfering with everyday life in our ninth year of marriage, so the following 15 were often challenging. Despite everything, they also were loving. Until the day Marshall died, we’d hold each other and feel the love radiate between us, heart-to-heart.

When the disease made Marshall angry, disturbed, or unreasonable he’d later regain some clarity, look at me, and once again, call me his Mary, the love of his life.

**You will find information on caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s disease, in my books Navigating Alzheimer’s, The Alzheimer’s Spouse, and Inspired Caregiving.

©2024, Mary K. Doyle