Wayne Roberts reaches over and touches his wife Lynne Roberts’ shoulder as she gazes out a window in their home in Butte. “I’ve been preparing for this for 13 years,” Wayne said while speaking about being Lynne’s caregiver. “She was 9 years older than I was when I married her. I thought this might be something that I would have to do.”
Wayne Roberts looks over at Lynne Roberts after she completed an in-home occupational therapy session on Monday, Feb. 5, 2024. When Wayne first moved in with Lynne, all he had was a bag of clothes and a stick bag for his drum sticks. “I’m not just her caregiver, she’s mine,” Wayne said.
Lynne Roberts looks at Wayne Roberts as he gently touches her shoulder on Thursday, Sept. 28, 2023. “My love for her in a lot of ways has grown because of what she’s going through,” said Wayne. “And all I can do for her is to make it as easy for her as I can.”
Wayne reaches out to hold Lynne Roberts’ hand as they leave their home in Butte, Montana before driving to lunch. As Lynne’s mobility decreased, she and Wayne went out less and less for travel, eating and entertainment. It became a rare occurrence for the couple to leave the house for non-essential reasons.
In the early hours of the morning, Wayne tosses newspapers on the ground at Safeway in Dillon. Wayne’s delivery route is 158 miles, which he drives three days a week in all weather conditions. Wildlife collisions, while not frequent, are not uncommon when driving this route.
While waiting for the newspaper truck to arrive, Wayne eats a light meal late Monday night. Wayne works for The Montana Standard delivering newspapers which can take him into the early morning hours to complete. This allows him to work when Lynne is sleeping, and to be home when she is awake.
As Lynne’s dementia and health condition worsened, Wayne installed cameras with two-way microphones so he and Lynne could communicate easily when he was out delivering newspapers in the dead of night. Wayne’s absence could cause Lynne to become distraught if she woke up in the middle of the night and he was not there.
Carrying yellow flowers for Lynne, her favorite color, Wayne leaves the grocery store to drive home to celebrate the anniversary of the day they met.
Lynne laughs as Wayne helps her out of the car during a shopping trip to Walmart. Lynne stopped driving after an episode early after her diagnosis: she was getting her hair cut, and when she got back to the car she called Wayne because she could no longer remember how to operate her vehicle.
During a medical appointment, Lynne looks over at Wayne as he speaks to Dr. Serena Brewer. Lynne had difficulty understanding others when they would speak to her, but she would understand when Wayne repeated their words back to her. Wayne was her medical advocate, and in many ways her liaison to the world.
Wayne reaches over to give Lynne her medication. As dementia progressed, Lynne’s ability to manage her own day-to-day activity decreased.
Wayne helps Lynne try on a pair of pajamas they purchased at Walmart. Lynne’s limited mobility makes changing her own clothes difficult.
A barefoot Wayne relaxes next to Lynne in their recliners with two heaters set to ‘HI’ near their feet. As Lynne aged, she had increasing difficulty staying warm and even wearing multiple layers she would still shiver.
The New Orleans Saints and Tennessee Titans NFL football game is reflected in Wayne’s glasses as he watches while relaxing next to Lynne. Wayne used to attend local football games with friends, but he has abstained from this pastime since Lynne was diagnosed with dementia.
Lynne makes her way through the kitchen back to her recliner after using the bathroom early one Wednesday morning. Wayne began following her to ensure her safety, regardless of the time of day, as she started to fall and injure herself.
With Lynne already sound asleep, Wayne reaches up to turn out the light for the night after arriving home from his newspaper delivery route. They started spending the night in their two recliners, which accommodated Lynne’s limited mobility. Wayne chose to be next to Lynne, where they slept side-by-side for four years.
The warmth from the Roberts’ house illuminates a cold winter morning. While Wayne was at work, on April 6, Lynne wandered out of the house wearing nothing but pajamas and socks. It was 28 degrees. Wayne saw her leave through the two-way camera he installed and raced home to find her clutching a fence. “Where are you going, baby?” Wayne asked Lynne, later when they were inside again. She told him she was going home.
Wayne comforts Lynne after she struggled to get out of her recliner for a bath with Nichole Newby, a home health aid. This was the first time the Roberts’ accepted in-home health care services, which reflected Lynne’s need for medical assistance outside of Wayne’s capabilities.
Nichole Newby helps Lynne bathe while Wayne watches. Lynne took a liking to Nichole, but said, “I’d rather take my own bath.”
The Roberts sleep next to each other in their recliners in the early morning. He sleeps next to Lynne so that he can be available if she wakes up in the middle of the night. “My goal is to make her last part of life fright free,” Wayne said. “I never want her thinking she has to go alone.”
Now in hospice, Lynne tightly grasps Wayne’s hand while lying in bed. Lynne is having increasing difficulty swallowing and has moved away from solid foods. She now drinks water through a straw or by sucking on a wet sponge. “This is no way to live,” Lynne said.
Hospice Nurse Tina Pfertsh lifts Lynne’s head while adjusting her pillow as Wayne comes to help. Lynne began hallucinating, and saying she wanted to go home. Wayne suspected she was talking about her old ranch in northwestern Montana. “I loved it,” Lynne said of her old home. “I never should have sold it. All the wide-open spaces…And there were no close neighbors. You could have any animal you wanted…I had several horses and dogs. It was wonderful.”
“It tastes like shit,” Lynne had previously said with a chuckle. Among other drugs, Lynne was on heavy doses of morphine and methadone to help manage her pain.
Yellow roses from Wayne rest in a vase above where Lynne sleeps in a hospital bed. As her cognitive function declined, Wayne noted that she seemed to find more comfort in having her favorite-colored flowers nearby. “She was one of the toughest women I’ve ever been involved with,” said Wayne. “And smart - you couldn’t get anything past her.”
Wayne sits with Lynne in what he expects to be her last day of life, on Monday, May 27, 2024. “It’s a conflict. I want to take care of her, I want her to be happy. And I want her to die,” said Wayne. “It’s the worst thing. I mean she’s been a free spirit her whole life and then to have someone tell you that you can’t get out of bed ever again…? How do you reconcile those two feelings?”
Lynne Roberts died at 8:45 am on Thursday morning, June 6, 2024 in her home. Wayne grasps the hand of Funeral Home Director Bri Mulvaney as Lynne’s covered body is taken away.
After briefly fighting back tears, Wayne divides Lynne’s ashes into small containers for family members. Wayne moved out of their home almost immediately after Lynne’s death. She was cremated without a funeral.
“Lynne and I met in the twilight of our lives and we loved every day,” Wayne said. “She came into my life when I needed her most and I still owe her so much. I will carry her with me the rest of my life. But I miss her. A thousand times a day, I miss her.”
Six months after Lynne’s death and living in a new home, Wayne checks the mail before starting his day.