I should have gotten in bed long ago (darned Olympics), but my heart is full and I need to write. Two stories have just really touched my heart, and I think they will touch yours too.

The first is the story of James William Gjertsen of Orlando, FL. Sweet Baby James was born prematurely with a number of serious health issues, such as holoprosencephaly (incomplete development of the brain), and diabetes. His parents, John and Abby, went to the same church I did in Orlando.

They invested so much time and love into taking care of James. He was in the hospital for months, much of that in NICU, before he got to come home. As his parents worked with his doctors and therapists, they and James made big strides. He celebrated his first birthday and was growing stronger, and they’d begun to have hopes for his development.

But when Abby went in to check on him Wednesday morning early, he wasn’t breathing. They called 911 and did CPR, but neither their efforts nor those of the hospital staff could revive him. Sweet little James, with the curly hair, big eyes and long eyelashes, was gone. He lived 482 days.

I never met him, but I’ve seen pictures of him at their blog , and I’ve watched a video celebrating his first year, and it’s so sweet it breaks my heart. He has shown me that no matter how great our needs might seem, we always have something to give. It seems from all the comments posted about him that he gave much more than he took.

The other story is of my aunt and uncle, June and Junior. His name is actually Ray, but he is Ray Jr., and we have always called him Uncle Junior. June is my dad’s oldest sister. She is a lot like my grandmother, which is endearing, but she is special in her own right and we have a sweet relationship.

About two years ago, Uncle Junior was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. No one else in our family has ever had this, or at least been diagnosed with it. I’m sure there have been a couple that we thought maybe had dementia or were just plain old, but this diagnosis was new and prompted a huge learning curve for them and for my cousins Steve and Deb.

For a while, his memory lapses seemed like anyone’s who is getting older, but then they began to get a bit worse. And then the disease seemed to pick up speed. He had a stroke a couple months ago that seems to have aggravated/worsened the Alzheimer’s.

He remained fairly easy going and pleasant, which was nice. But the past couple of weeks have brought greater, harsher changes. He no longer recognizes any of his family members and keeps asking to go home, even as he sits in his own bedroom. He and Aunt June have been married for 53 years. They have two children, four grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. For him to not know her anymore has broken her heart, yet she remains dedicated to keeping him at home and caring for him as long as possible, in the way she knows he would want to be cared for.

This past week he got out of the house and was trying to climb over the back fence to go “home” when they found him. It took her, Steve and Steve’s wife, Vickie, two hours to get him back inside. He didn’t go to bed until 3:30 a.m. that night/morning. They were exhausted in all ways possible. He has said and done things that have been so hurtful to them, and yet their love and commitment to him seem to get stronger.

Aunt June has tried, probably unconsciously mostly, to keep her emotions at bay so she could focus on his care, but this week the dam broke. She cried with Deb about how hard it is to see this shell of the man they love. Deb wondered, in light of this difficult week and change in his condition, if it might not be time to seek a care facility for him. “No,” Aunt June said through her tears. “No one else will love him like I do.”

He has no idea what they’re going through caring for him. Not now. But one day he will. And he will see it for what it is: the closest thing to unconditional love we humans are capable of mustering.

Deb and Uncle Junior last October at her surprise birthday party