The last time...
You never know the last time is going to be the last time. The last time Mom cooked eggs for me. The last time we baked Christmas cookies together in her kitchen. The last time we decorated the house for Christmas. The last time....
I love this time of year. The smells, the songs, the Be of Good Cheer. And it's one of the hardest times of year for me. When I was home this last time, I took Mom to Hallmark and we looked at the Christmas ornaments and decorations, but our time was nothing like last year's Pier One excursions. Who knew she would not have that kind of energy now?
The holidays this year are just kinda strange. Mom is in a memory care facility, and we sold her house and all of her stuff is gone, somewhere else. My dad had painted ceramic houses and he had his own village that he and Mom would put out and light up. Last year I helped Mom set it up. This year Mom and the residents (and the staff) put up Christmas decorations in her new home and she told me about it.
This holiday season has brought a melancholy and is bittersweet. I didn't know there were going to be so many last times last year. The last time Mom crocheted me a scarf, the last time we walked around her gardens, the last time..
Dementia teaches me again and again about the law of impermanence and the importance of living in the moment. And letting go. Letting go of what was, who she was, and the last time. Thinking about any of those last times is a reminder to cherish what we have. The moments, the laughter, the confusion, the joy. All of it. Cause at some point, it will be the last time.
Back at ya Voyageur.
I love this time of year. The smells, the songs, the Be of Good Cheer. And it's one of the hardest times of year for me. When I was home this last time, I took Mom to Hallmark and we looked at the Christmas ornaments and decorations, but our time was nothing like last year's Pier One excursions. Who knew she would not have that kind of energy now?
The holidays this year are just kinda strange. Mom is in a memory care facility, and we sold her house and all of her stuff is gone, somewhere else. My dad had painted ceramic houses and he had his own village that he and Mom would put out and light up. Last year I helped Mom set it up. This year Mom and the residents (and the staff) put up Christmas decorations in her new home and she told me about it.
This holiday season has brought a melancholy and is bittersweet. I didn't know there were going to be so many last times last year. The last time Mom crocheted me a scarf, the last time we walked around her gardens, the last time..
Dementia teaches me again and again about the law of impermanence and the importance of living in the moment. And letting go. Letting go of what was, who she was, and the last time. Thinking about any of those last times is a reminder to cherish what we have. The moments, the laughter, the confusion, the joy. All of it. Cause at some point, it will be the last time.
Back at ya Voyageur.