Mom, Alzheimer's, Death and the Law of Impermanence

I cannot tell you how many times a day I want to call my mom.  Share with her some little tidbit of what's happening in my world. Hear her laugh. Get her advice. Have her ask me what I'm having for dinner. Share with her my latest cooking concoction.  Hear her encouragement. There is something special between mothers and daughters. Especially one who thinks you are adventurous, courageous, and is cheering each step along the way.

It's strange, I'm not as sad as I thought I might be. Don't get me wrong, I miss my mom so much. But she was so confused, had forgotten the names of the majority of flowers, no longer could sew, pretty much forgot how to crochet, believed it was sometime in the 1970s and routinely 'saw' her family as we were back then. She could no longer cook, drive a car, balance her checkbook.  A couple of years ago she told me she was crocheting me a yoga mat, well it was actually a yoga bag. In her head it was a mat, she even said it didn't turn out the way she thought it should, but it's a beautiful yoga bag.

Mom was still "there", right up until her last days, but the stuff that allowed her to be independent, to live life the way she wanted to, were gone.  She had said to me a few years back, she did not want to become a 'babbling idiot'.   Just a few months ago, she sat down on her bed crying, saying 'I knew it was going to be hard when your dad died, I just didn't think it was going to be this hard.' Well, as my mom loved to quote my dad - you always worry about the wrong shit.

Recently my career has taken a different turn. It's really exciting and a little scary. I didn't realize how much I relied on my mom's words until dementia started taking them away.  Mind you, she would still give me the most insightful advice when I asked for it. And just hearing her say 'wow you are really adventurous, I admire you. You're so smart, you will figure it out. Don't worry, someone else will realize how fabulous you are. Take care of my daughter, she's really special' made all the difference in the world.

Although I have to say she is with me in a whole new way. She would mail me notes and little gift packages throughout the year. I have her notes tucked away in different drawers throughout my apartment, so I get a sweet message, usually when I need it the most.  Over the past few years, fearing she would forget how to use the phone or who I am, I saved many of her voicemails. Listening to those, hearing her voice, keeps her close to me.

It's true that the only constant in life is change. Sometimes I wish it just didn't happen so fast.

Kickin' back to ya Voyageur.