Today, on his 96th birthday, I find myself reflecting with deep gratitude on the life of my Uncle Maurice Yordy—known to many of us as Uncle Max.
A gentleman, farmer, and gardener… a retired science teacher and pastor… a historian, activist, and antiques enthusiast. He is a family storyteller and entertainer, a good neighbor, and the sixth child—and only son—of Ezra and Carrie, the youngest sibling to Ethel, Dorothy, Alta, Florence, and Ruth.
Across three generations, he has been the fun-loving uncle who always made time for a visit—an international traveler who opened his home to guests from around the world, and an aficionado of symphony, theatre, and the spoken word.
Thank you for serving as a North Star for our family.
Thank you for being a role model extraordinaire.
And thank you for the gift of your time, your stories, and your enduring presence in our lives.
On this milestone birthday, we are honored to share an essay he wrote in 2020—three years after the loss of his beloved wife, Patricia. It officially launches our Caregiver Memoirs series—where memory, meaning, and soul care meet.
Remembering a Loved One: A Personal Reflection and Memoir
My wife Patricia and I were married for 63 years prior to her death in 2017. The complications of Alzheimer’s Disease led to her death. It was a very traumatic experience for both of us. In the years before the full onset of her serious condition there was some evidence of a developing problem, but we felt that it was something we could deal with. Then the last two years of her life included major discomforts that we had to endure. This was due to the gradual decline in her ability to carry on normal functions.
My major concern was to be able to provide an atmosphere of secure comfort and stability for her. To this end I was able to locate very skilled and loving caregivers. It was a deeply held passion of mine to provide Pat with the rock-solid environment of her own home and surroundings. You cannot perceive the sadness that goes with being a witness to the steady decline that accompanies the disease. It is a drama in which you see a once very intelligent, vibrant, and capable person losing the ability to deal with the daily routines of life.
What happens to you when your soulmate is no longer able to share in the intimate chapters of daily life? There is a gradual and sure awareness of the great loss that you are experiencing and that is being forced upon you. In the early stages, I embraced a stance of denial. Surely these inconveniences will somehow stabilize, and we will be able to make adaptations. Then as there is a gradual loss of abilities one feels both anger and disengagement. And in the early stages of her loss of realized competency, she expressed some of these feelings. She wondered what is wrong when she displayed behaviors that were not her usual way of doing things.
Eventually, it became very clear that in order to protect her and keep her comfortable it would require great efforts. The support team of understanding and loving caregivers was of invaluable assistance during this phase of her illness. Pat’s unselfish devotion to our marriage prompted my desire to provide and maintain only the very best possible for her comfort and security. I will never forget the many wonderful years we shared together!
When death occurs, another new and very unfamiliar chapter becomes a reality. My sadness and loss were minimized to a degree in knowing that Pat was finally free…! The hospice personnel were of great value duringthe last weeks of her life. Then the social worker from hospice continued to provide support for me in the months after her death. That contact was of great value in providing insights and understanding into the journey of separation and the scope of my loss.
“I don’t know when exactly or what prompted it. I just know the morning sun came out and burned the fog away. Until then, it was a somber period due to tremendous loss which permeated every aspect of my life after 63 good years of marriage.” (January 2020)
Only now, some two years later have I experienced relief from the grievous feelings that were mine. I cannot pinpoint when it occurred, but an awareness of a deep peace began to replace the sadness that had been mine. The wonderful memories of our time together are poignant, real, and very deeply felt. The words by Paul Williams have had a profound and very deep meaning for me. He writes:
“And when one of us is gone, And one alone is left to carry on, Well then, remembering will have to do, Our memories alone will get us through, Thinking of the days of me and you, You and me against the world.”
Maurice Yordy – May 2020
To read more about Maurice Yordy, visit this post: Meet Maurice Yordy – our beloved 92-year old Uncle Max – living fully serving others – This is an interview conducted and written by Mike Yoder, the current chair of the board of the Illinois Mennonite Historical and Genealogical Society.
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Susan Troyer
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