Finding the ‘Sunshine’ Amid Alzheimer’s

Tricia Kano is a Bostonian who lives in Ohio with her husband and her dog named Boston. She has two adult daughters and two delightful grandchildren. A day doesn’t go by that someone doesn’t comment on her strong Boston accent. Her Instagram is @gorgealittlegorge.

From the moment that I heard my sweet brother, James Keegan, was diagnosed with young-onset Alzheimer’s disease in 2019, I prayed every day for a miracle for him. After reading everything I could get my hands on about this devastating disease, one thing I kept seeing was to bring our loved ones joy. The miracle was the hard part; bringing him joy was so easy, because he made it easy for us. What a joy it was to love a man with the most beautiful, loving and generous heart.  

James, his wife Eileen, and the rest of our family all lived in Massachusetts. My husband, Kunio, and I live in Ohio. Once James got his diagnosis, we went back to Massachusetts (“home”) every two to three months to visit him. I worried that if I didn’t get back home to see him that often, I would see too much of a decline, and I didn’t want that to happen. When we were in Massachusetts, we shared many magical times together, but I always wished that I could have a “date” with James, just him and me.   

In August of 2022, we had a family cookout at the place we’ve called home since 1968. It was hosted by my sister, Ruthie and brother, Kevin. There were about 40 people, including most of our first cousins, their children and grandchildren, and many friends. All the cousins showered James with love, and he returned his love right back to them. When James remembered some of them, they were thrilled, and I saw many eyes fill with tears. The day really tired him out, but before the day was over for him, he had swum in the pool and enjoyed yummy food. Typical for our family, we had an impromptu sing along: We sang “You Are My Sunshine,” which was a song I sang to him on the FaceTime calls we had every other day.  Once he began to lose more of his speech, Eileen suggested I sing to him, and he really seemed to respond to it.

Before James and Eileen left the cookout, I asked to get some pictures taken with James, all the first cousins and their spouses. We took many pictures with different combinations of families, but the one with all the cousins and their spouses became really special: That large group picture had us encircled in a golden light. When we all looked at the pictures and saw that light, we believed it was a miracle.

Two days later, his wife must have read my mind, and asked me if I’d like to have a day with James. She drove him to a halfway point for me to pick him up. He was so excited to tell me that he didn’t know what happened, but he was speaking really well. (He had Primary Progressive Aphasia.) I was sure he got the miracle that I prayed for every day.

We went to Scituate, Massachusetts, my favorite place in the world and a place that James loves too; our whole family does. We spent many summers just a few houses away from the most beautiful lighthouse. It is surrounded by a gorgeous harbor filled with boats, big and small. That day, the ocean glistened and sparkled like diamonds from the bright shining sun. After that we went to Norwell for hot fudge sundaes at Honstra Farms, and then to Cross Street Flower Farm for James to buy his wife flowers, and hopefully pick them ourselves. When you have Alzheimer’s, you can’t do sweet things for your wife on your own. The flower farm was closed, so supermarket flowers it was. We had the best day together, and I will treasure it for the rest of my life. I know James treasured it too. It was magical.

I got a small “miracle” for James: even if it was brief, I got to have a “date” with him, and “You Are My Sunshine” became his signature song, and oh what pure joy he was. When he passed on Oct. 3, 2024, one day shy of his 67th birthday, I called a florist to order flowers for his funeral, but couldn’t think what to write on the card.  I talked to my sister, Ruthie, and she suggested: “James, You Are My Sunshine.” It was perfect. I had the absolute honor of giving the eulogy for James. At the end, I asked everyone to join me in singing “You Are My Sunshine” and said, “now James will know all the words.” The entire crowd joined in and then I blew him kisses, just like we ended all our FaceTime calls. He truly was all sunshine and joy and as my sister Ruthie wrote on the Funeral Home’s guestbook, “You came into this world weighing 3 lbs., 14 oz.  and from the start you were a little fighter and a joy to all our family.” Our sweet James was tiny but mighty!

As a long-distance caregiver, my role was to bring him joy just like all the joy he gave us, give his wife and other family members a little break, and love him with all my heart. We all miss him every day, and especially miss his beautiful smile that lit up his whole face, the best hugs, his cute laugh, and his undying love.