The Meaning Behind Dragonfly
Improving the World of Dementia Care
To offer individual consulting services, support group facilitation services for adult children and spouses, and dementia education for frontline staff and informal or family caregivers.
While many find it uncomfortable to experience sadness, grief, and loss, we find it meaningful, valuable, important, and rewarding. So, with courage, we begin our journey by sharing the personal meaning and “why” behind the name of Dragonfly.
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Dragonfly Senior Navigation Services' mission is to stand alongside frontline caregivers and family caregivers in the thick of dementia care to encourage, empathize, equip, empower, and enlighten them during a very challenging time.
We do this by:
- Providing emotional & professional support during a very challenging time
- As a source of understanding from a caregiver’s perspective, to be seen and heard, and throughout the caregiving process, to never feel alone.
- Providing tools and resources for individuals, families, and professional caregivers to refer to when they feel they are ready
- To empower all dementia care members to find their strength, confidence, and resiliency when they are “in the thick of caregiving.”
- Teaching and educating anyone new to the caregiver role on how to navigate the world of dementia care. Enlightening them about new things they may not have known or considered and adding to the excellent work they are already doing through community education, support groups, and individual consultation.
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The vision of Dragonfly Senior Navigation Services is to become the premier dementia care navigation organization in the Western Suburbs of Chicago that caregivers and memory care communities will turn to first and feel most comfortable with when seeking to provide enhanced, more beautiful care for those with a dementia diagnosis.
Through excellence in education, support, and consultation, Dragonfly Senior Navigation Services strives to deliver top-shelf quality dementia care navigation and consistently remain approachable, practical, honoring, and mindful that clarity is kindness.
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Our values can be seen not only in our passion for our work but also in the services we provide to help others navigate the complexities of care when needed.
Here’s what we believe:
Every human, including every older adult, has the right to be treated with dignity and respect
Every human has a right to self-determination, even when we disagree with it unless it is deemed harmful, unsafe, or abusive.
The importance of allowing someone to live in the least restrictive environment, as it benefits them and our community
In the sanctity of life at all stages of life
The benefit of using a strength-based approach as it pertains to resilience for helping navigate challenging parts of life
Ensuring that professional ethics are adhered to at all times
In the power of appropriate humor in building relationships
The importance of finding the best quality of life at every point in a person’s journey
In the importance of loving our neighbors as ourselves
I’m not sure if it’s hope, denial, or maybe a mix of both.
My mom’s birthday was April 14. In 2019, the weeks leading up to her birthday were complicated with her medical emergencies, really hard decisions for my father regarding her care, and eventually a transfer to the local Hospice House in their small farm town.
One of my mom’s favorite things was to be outside to enjoy nice weather, the view over the farm, the sun, her nicely manicured yard, and her flowers. So before traveling to sit vigil with her, I found a small crystal dragonfly figurine and it felt like something she would enjoy.
Mom wasn’t able to unwrap my gift, so I unwrapped it myself and quietly set it on a corner counter in her room, where it stayed for just a few long days that bulged with emotions, reality, grief, and plenty of behaving nicely around a lot of people–when all I really wanted to do was be alone with my mom.
Grief makes you do strange things, like insisting on purchasing a birthday gift for someone who is actively passing away. What is that refusal in us to change a routine unless it’s official?
A year later, when my husband was looking for a perfect opportunity to propose to me in Door County, WI, we were sitting on a wooden bench on a beach. One or two dragonflies flew around the nearby beach grass and I pointed them out to Mark as he knew they reminded me of my mom. Moments later, Mark proposed, knowing that the time was right because Mom was near for such a huge event in my life. She would have been so thrilled to see her daughter filled with such joy!
And so, dragonflies continue to be a bit of a nod from heaven.
They remind me of my mom’s pride and joy in her four girls. They consistently show up at beautiful and meaningful times, and I silently greet them with a warm smile and loving memories of my mom. To be honest, they also remind me of the hard times, filled with grief, goodbyes, and lots of tears. Both are important things to hold on to at the same time.
While working in memory care communities, caregivers would tour the community with the ambassadors, seeking the best place for their loved ones. Being introduced to them, I found that one of the most empathetic things I could say in such a brief encounter was, “If you are touring here, that tells me you must be in the weeds of caregiving. It is nice to have you here, and if you ever would like to chat about your role or dementia, I’d be happy to spend more time with you.”
Every time “in the weeds” was mentioned, there appeared to be a physical and emotional reaction as if to say, “Ah! You get where I’m at!” Upon one specific interaction, a gentleman confirmed that he was in the weeds and stated, “The weeds?!? It feels more like a swamp!” While daydreaming about a name for this business, I vividly remembered that comment, and I googled, “How do you walk through a swamp?” To my amusement, I found a Wikihow page giving specific instructions on how to walk through a swamp, and all points coincidently relate well to being a caregiver for someone with dementia.
One point towards the end of the steps encouraged swamp walkers to occasionally stop, look up, and look for something beautiful. It was suggested that swamps are typically not beautiful. Still, in all reality, if you look carefully enough, you may find a pleasant surprise–to which I thought dragonflies are the exception! They are the beauty in the swamp alongside brightly colored wildflowers.
I suggest that amid the thick weeds and messiness of caregiving, there are opportunities to see or experience something beautiful. I take it upon myself to make sure you occasionally stop, stand still, look up, and see something beautiful.
-LaVon K. Lenaway