Posts
My precious mother, Lena May Carroll, was stricken with Alzheimer's, and her loss of memory was first noticed about 1999 or so. Prior to that, we thought she had experienced a series of strokes that would leave her a bit confused for a day or only a few minutes. Gradually, over the next couple of years, it became painfully apparent that more than that was taking place.
I cannot begin to tell you how agonizing it was to have my
best friend, my confidante, my adviser, my adored mother retreat from us
in her mind. She often did not recognize me, saying, "You cannot be my
daughter. Melinda is not fat!" She would remember things from many, many
years before - a poem, a conversation, a person she did not remember as
having died years before.
She never, NEVER ceased to mourn the loss of my father, who
passed away in 1996. That was the one constant throughout all her days.
She would ask, however, "When is Jack supposed to get home?" and bring
about painful remembrances for me - and a concern as to how I should
respond. I always chose NOT to remind her and bring forth a new and
fresh bit of agony for her.
There were moments, sometimes a whole day, when she was
completely lucid. Blessed moments when I would greedily grab time with
her to share love and conversation, times when her sparkling wit and
massive knowledge of things both everyday and normal or complex would
make my heart sing.
Love, alone, however, did not bring about full communication.
Yes, I always, always, tried to show her love. She had always been the
dearest person to me, memories of her sweet attention and loving way of
making my most painful wounds stop hurting, make my happy moments even
more blessedly happy with her to share - but those times were
increasingly fewer and fewer between.
I lost my mother many years before her death. So sorry for
that. I would give anything for science to find the cure that no one
else should ever have to suffer the agony of that horrible, slow, loss.
Melinda
No comments:
Post a Comment