Grief and Cursing

I was going to write a post for Mother's Day a couple of weeks ago, saw Voyageur was writing and didn't. And now it's Memorial Day. We would have picnics with the family Memorial weekend.  Mom loved going to the lake that was a couple of miles from their home and being outside with family and of course eating watermelon.

Grief, disbelief, magical thinking. They all are a part of the process of loving and caring for someone with dementia and Alzheimer's. And they are experienced with the physical death. I'm still in the shock, disbelief and magical thinking phase. I talk with Mom daily. Out loud.  We have our own conversations - I wish her a good morning, tell her I love her, miss her. I show her my herb garden on my balcony. I ask her which vegetables and fruits I should buy at the farmer's market.

When I was home last fall, and had those luxurious two months to spend with her (all the while working crazy hours on a campaign), I saw how much slower she was walking. Glacially slower. When we went out, I held her hand. All the time. The world was becoming more confusing and scary for her. She wanted to eat out less, eat more at the memory care facility.

Although Alzheimer's is a disease that attacks the brain, it affects the body as well. She was less steady, her eyes not working as well as they used to, her sense of smell was off. But if her body and senses didn't operate like they once did, it cleared the way so our time together was all laughter and love.

Almost every time she would see me, she would be amazed how much I had grown. She would always tell me how proud she is of me. We held hands. We laughed alot, we reminisced, we talked about the work I was doing, we loved.

Grief unexpressed, is a crazy ridiculous thing. Or should I say I behave a little crazy and ridiculous. I call Voyageur thinking I will have a normal conversation with her, and then I'm ranting about some ridiculous political thing or candidate or how much I hate Facebook. Or I curse - sometimes loudly - when I miss my train or bus.  Usually the f bomb. Lovely.

I'm learning, albeit a bit slowly, to express my grief in healthier ways. Crying. Sometimes publicly, sometimes at Trader Joe's. I walk everywhere - 3 miles to and from the train station, 3 miles to and from Trader Joe's. And learning how to lean on friends more. I still curse when I miss my bus or train, just hopefully not as loud. Maybe I'll take a walk near a lake and talk with Mom.

Kickin' it back to ya Voyageur.