I call my mother almost everyday.
Our conversations are brief.
She lights up when she hears my voice, but more and more her words are hard to understand. It is a slurrie of words that are hard to comprehend and don’t make much sense together.
But there are a few things she says that are crystal clear.
When she asks me if “I am at work?” And, I answer “yes”, she always follows up with “Do you love it?” It always makes me smile. First, because I do love it, and her question reminds me of that, and second because for whatever reason, even in her fading mind, the fact that she wants me to love what I do is so very clear.
She asks me when I am coming to see her. I tell her “soon”, as that is a relative term that makes her happy, and is arguably true.
The sad part is that even if I go to see her, she will forget that I visited minutes after I leave her side.
Before I hang up, I always tell her that I adore her. She hears it, and pauses. I can hear the love in her heart. “You are my life.” She will say, or some version of that sentiment.
And, I know that even its just for a moment, she knows who she is, she knows who I am, and she feels my love.
More and more as I hang up with her, my eyes tear. I feel sadness and selfishness.
My mother is dying twice as a result of her Alzheimer’s.
First, her mind is dying, and with it, the woman that I knew, the smile that lit up a room, the relentless energy, the passion for her friends… her insatiable desire for me to get more rest.
Then, someday soon, I know the truth is that she won’t be able to access much of anything in her mind. It will be random thoughts about her life filling her days.
It’s sad to watch her fade away, and the speed of it is blinding.
And, then she will be around, for me to see on occasion. That is the part that feels selfish. I will be able to hold her hand, and give her a kiss, and feel her body in my embrace… and wonder how much of it she understands.
Someday her heart and her body will pass and she will be fully gone. And, that day will bring a different kind of sadness, but also relief.
I don’t know exactly what I will feel other than sadness. No real value in understanding it much further.
I remember thinking with my children when they were young, that I was spending effort that they would never remember. Perhaps it shaped them at a very early age. Who knows.
Now with my mother, I feel like soon, it will be again that feeling of spending effort not knowing if it is making any difference.
Alzheimers is a sad disease.
I want her to be happy and at peace. And, I think, thanks to the meds, she generally is. But I wonder sometimes, if some part of her, feels herself fading and losing control.
I think on some level she does.
My mother will die twice, as others with Alzheimer’s will. That is the truth.
Life has its sadness.
I will enjoy my moments with her during the day.
I will own her love for me and my love for her.
I am the man she dreamt that I would be, and I am ready to fly solo when she is ready to leave this earth.
I realize so many of her “wackiness” over the past decade or possibly more were symptoms on some level of this illness.
I know that someday, it will be my turn. And, I do pray that I only die once, and keep my mind about me until I go. But, all of that is out of my hands.
Sadness is part of life, as is aging, as is seeing our parents fade away…
I am ok with all of it. And, I am grateful to have her to love and you to share it with.
My heart and mind is with all of you friends who are going through some version of this with your parents, uncles, aunts, or others that you love.
Not all truth is happy. But, all truth is to be embraced.
Call your parents often... ;-)
Te adoro madre,
Nestor