Paige has been back in Illinois now for two weeks, and it goes without saying that I'm missing my lady. Even though I lack the right pillows to emulate her head on my chest as we fall asleep to Bob's Burgers playing on the laptop, I'm not sad that she's gone. I'm not sad because I know she's exactly where she needs to be.
When I decided to make my move from Chicago, where I had a band, a good job, friends, a community, a future, I never thought of it as leaving, simply going where the wind was taking me, knowing that the community of friends that remained in Chicago might not always stay in Chicago, but would always remain friends. Distance and time do not exist in the hearts of the people you love.
Once I made up my mind that Texas was where I was meant to be, Paige never questioned the decision. It wasn't even a decision . . . more of a beacon flashing in the distance, calling to me. It was easy enough to leave in the background at first, but it wasn't long before the blinding light instigated the hurricane exit to a different life. To my surprise, Paige was by my side the whole way, hauling boots and guitars to the Chevy Malibu, ready to treat what could have been a dark journey as an exciting new adventure into what has given more clarity, strength, and sense of family than we could have ever imagined.
Now that the dust from my tragic tale has settled itself back to it's proper place on the ground, another whirlwind of potential misery lifts the particles back into the air as the DeChausse family embraces the challenges that Alzheimer's hurls at your feet, demanding every bit of your time, attention, and money. This challenge has been accepted and approached all the grace and dignity that the situation allows. Paige is a true warrior in the battle against the darkness.