Hearing my mother’s cries about a haunted house felt unsettling. She forgot turning on the TV and was startled by familiar artworks. She sometimes suspected her nurse, fearing harm. The woman who quelled childhood fears now faced her own. Managing her stroke and lung cancer was hard enough, but Alzheimer’s tested us further. “Will Grandma remember me?” my daughter, 26, asked about my mother, 87.
Every two weeks, my sister and I alternated visits to help with errands, appointments, and repairs before her nap. Each visit, she seemed to slip further away. Her overwhelmed response to bills became common, yet she resisted me handling them alone. Many visits ended with us exhausted and me near tears, holding onto every bit of patience. Our relationship wasn’t always easy, but her heartfelt ‘I love you’ grounded us.
Two Mother’s Days ago, she was sharp and unfiltered. Her witty remarks turned awkward moments into amusement. Her favorite sayings amused us. But Alzheimer’s did progress. COVID-19’s isolation accelerated it. Restrictions kept the grandchildren from witnessing her decline. She disliked video calls, finding faces on a phone baffling.
Navigating these changes, I turned to online resources. The Alzheimer’s Association likened it to a blackboard, erasing a life from the present backward. I learned to meet her in her reality. Rushing scared her, so I slowed, made eye contact, and said, “Hi Mom, it’s your daughter, Linda.” Short sentences worked best. Familiar routines comforted her. We often looked at old photos.
Music brought clarity. Streisand and the Bee Gees on her CD player transported her back. Her speech faded, but she enjoyed my presence. Tone reached her before words. For my birthday, her caregiver posted signs to prompt her memory. Each visit, she tried hard to recognize me.
Once, a YouTube video showed a daughter with her mother, who said, “I don’t know who you are, but I know I love you.” That sentiment guided me. Love endured, and that mattered most.
After her passing, I dream of her often. In dreams, she is youthful, with glossy hair and vibrant voice. Alzheimer’s dulled memories, but love stayed vivid in dreams.
Linda Wolff, a Los Angeles writer, contributes to various publications. Find her on Instagram @carpoolgoddess. All views expressed are the author’s own.
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