Robert Sunni Felder

"Dementia took our friend, Robert Sunni Felder on 3/6/22"

by Stan Rosenthal

With great sadness I learned of Sunni's passing at age 75. To be honest, because dementia is such a cruel disease to both sufferers and caregivers, I believe Sunni welcomed an end to his suffering in the absence of a cure.

I've known Sunni for a quarter of a century. We worked together in the gym. Sunni undertook his job assignment with ritual dedication. I cannot remember him ever having missed performing his job until his mental capacities became too diminished during our two year covid quarantine. Mercifully, our job supervisor reassigned him to a different and more manageable task.

Our relationship began as coworkers and eventually evolved to where I would prepare meals, clean his cell, bag his clothes for the laundry, and get him in the shower. Each task became markedly more difficult as the disease kept taking and taking. Up until 3 weeks ago, when Sunni was placed in the infirmary, we built a team of people caring for different aspects of his daily life.

Benjy handled all medical needs—taking him to the pill line; recruiting nurses to assist as Sunni's varied illnesses fluctuated daily; and making certain Sunni would attend all medical appointments. Moving to this unit one year ago, Lester Malik Womack immediately began to to pitch in by assisting with a myriad of needs on a daily basis. Our unit counselor, Ms. Jacques, was our go-to person whenever attention was required for DOC-related needs. Ms. Jacques was instrumental in allowing Sunni to remain on the unit in order for our informal team to care for him. Gerald Rahim Jones would assist Sunni with phone calls and correspondence. We feel honored Sunni allowed us to assist with his care. I never imagined I could perform this work and am grateful and humbled by this experience.

Eventually Sunni lost all recent memory beyond a 2-3 second range. He remembered pre-prison and his first decade inside but little beyond. For example, when I would ask him his favorite season of the year or any similar question, his response was always, "what does that mean?" This kept me mentally nimble as I daily tried to help when when he failed to understand the goal—a clean cell, a shower, staying hydrated, or exercising by walking. Most challenging for me was getting him to shift from the circular obsessive loops his brain fixated on to a linear thought pattern.

During our regular walks I would point out the mets flying overhead and ask Sunni to search the sky for contrails. I would challenge him to spot the many and multiple variety of birds. Sunni's refused to believe that the hawks were predatory birds that ate other birds. Our view through the multiple fences was a tree-lined horizon—something unimaginable coming from his 40-year stay at a prison with a forty foot wall. During every lap, I would stop to point out the trees. Without fail, Sunni's would be amazed at the forest of trees and wonder where they came from.

The upside of the disease is that it allowed Sunni to believe his Mom was still alive. I would ask about his family and when he last spoke with them and he always replied he spoke with his Mom yesterday.

Unwittingly, the disease bestowed immortality to Sunni's Mom and I could sense his ease when he "recalled" he spoke with her yesterday and she was alive and well.

I want to thank Sunni for teaching me unconditional patience and for allowing our crew to assist him. My greatest challenge and victory was getting him into the shower so he would clean up and I could "steal" his soiled clothes for the laundry bag.

During his last several weeks on the unit he began to lose his understanding of thirst and hunger. Ice cream, chips, snack cakes—all his favorites sat uneaten. He wouldn't drink the proper amount of fluids. On the night before he was admitted into the infirmary I stayed in his cell for 30 minutes as he ate my "special recipe" triple-decker peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Each time he took a nibble and set it down he would forget he was eating. I cajoled, tricked, begged, and reasoned with him to eat the sandwich so medical wouldn't take him away. We tried but couldn't outmaneuver this nasty disease.

Each of us was challenged beyond our imagination. We cloaked Sunni with brotherly love and I want to hope somewhere, somehow Sunni knew how much we tried to do the best for him. I know we provided, to the best of our abilities, a high level of care and comfort for our buddy.

While we will miss our friend, there is no one who believes his passing away peacefully during his noontime nap was not a huge blessing for Sunni.

Thank you Sunni for teaching us humility, endless patience, and allowing us to humbly tend to your every need. You team consisted of a Jew, two Muslims, a nonbeliever, and staff—proving brotherly love can reach beyond race, religion, and social status.

May a cure for this dreaded disease be discovered ASAP! Our crew stands in solidarity to all those suffering from dementia and for all the caregivers assisting with their needs.

You're finally at peace, Brother Sunni!

This memorial was written by Stan Rosenthal.