my mother, lost…

I posted this when I was at Blogspot and thought I’d re-post it here.
It’s one of the nice memories of my mother.

I can’t remember the last “real” conversation I shared with my mother.
I’m sure it was your indispensable ‘what’s new with you? Ah, nothing’ variety.
She’s now moving through the late stages of Alzheimer’s and there’s nothing much left to talk about, nothing to be said that can be understood—at least from my vantage point.
I’ve all but lost her.
I sit quietly and listen as she innocently tries to carry on a dialogue that only she can speak and understand.
The last time I visited her at the nursing home, we sat and looked out the opaque windows of the rec room listening to the rain pitter-patter on the long rectangles of glass.
The sound of the rain seems to have more of a calming effect on her than I ever could. Sometimes when I’m sitting there next to her, my mind drifts and I look back on our life and all that we shared, ultimately coming to the sad realization that there’s not much left in the sharing department either.
It was as I was leaving one day that I bent down to kiss her forehead (my own ritual) and absentmindedly asked if she needed anything.
She replied, “How ‘bout a cold one next time?”
That brief moment of clarity, if that’s what it was, caught me off guard and I laughed out loud.
She looked up at me from her wheelchair (where she spends most of her time these days) and began laughing as well.
I smiled; amazed that after all her weary, cobwebbed mind had been through, she could still laugh.
I took comfort in the fact that the simple act of physically expressing happiness still lives and breathes somewhere inside of her.
For now, I’ll settle for those rare moments of laughter that still unknowingly connect us.



9 thoughts on “my mother, lost…

  1. I remember this post from your blogspot days. It has the same depth of feeling as the first time that I read it.

    Thanks, Fuzz.
    I think I’m just feeling a bit lazy this weekend.


  2. I remember this one too – though I think you sent it to me. I loved this story because it seems to prove a universal truth – love survives. She loved you with all her heart, you know this. And I think she always did too – even if she forgot sometimes.


    Love survives: Our only saving grace.


  3. This is extraordinary, I had really no idea that humor and laughter would still be around. My mother in law is entangled in her cobwebs, it is good to know that she could laugh one day too. Thanks for posting this again, I did not know you in the blogspot days.

    I remember the day quite well, actually.
    As I said, it took me by surprise.
    And a nice surprise it was. . .


  4. This is beautiful, and something I can identify with as my grandfather has advanced dementia.

    Thank you.

    Feel free to dig through the archives or ‘tag surf’ my Alzheimer category.
    There may be some things I’ve written that may help.
    Thanks for commenting, LF…


  5. it’s good to remember good things such as this…makes it just a little easier to deal with the bad

    A funny thing has happened over the years-
    the bad stuff/memories tend to fall by the wayside.
    Maybe that’s the way the mind works to protect us and let us heal.
    I’ll take it either way.


  6. We live for those moments. My mother as well is getting confused…she doesn’t talk much anymore…losing her appetite. Sometimes I think she doesn’t know me, and other days I see her smile as she sees me enter. One day soon she won’t be there, so I’ll take what I can get. It’s amazing how much our heart can take and still it beats on…determined.

    I think our children prepare our hearts in some ways.
    They think they can shatter it to pieces but they never do, do they?
    Keep living for the moments, Matty.
    LIke I had to tell you that, right? 😉


  7. i believe, wholeheartedly, you’re never truly over something until you ONLY remember the good be it a situation such as this or the breakdown of a relationship/marriage, whatever it may be…

    Point well taken, Moe.


  8. Breaks my heart and eases it a little all at the same time when reading posts like this Michael. I can imagine it’s the same a bit when writing it….

    Absolutely. Great insight, Kel


  9. It’s the best when they laugh, isn’t it? My mom is also in the late stage. She can’t talk much, but sometimes she’ll just sit there and giggle to herself at whatever inside joke she’s got going on. I just wish I knew what was so funny.

    The world may never know, Jenn.
    And yes, it is wonderful when they laugh.
    Whether they ‘get it’ or not.
    Thanks for the visit.


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