My mother has Alzheimer’s. I usually don’t question the “why,” but more of “how?” How did someone who taught children for 40 years, raise a family, a caretaker of her mother-in-law, she was a vibrant and diligent worker in her church, and would walk almost daily, become a victim to this crippling disease? My wife (who has been a source of comfort and strength) and I are the only ones caring for her.
My brother has called three times since Katrina destroyed her home in New Orleans. The odd thing is he has only asked about her health status once. Furthermore, I can’t comprehend why most of the people (family, friends and associates) she “loved and cared for” have become “ghosts!” I wonder, is it that difficult to call us and find out “how she’s doing” or to inquire “can they see her” or “can we help”? In my opinion, it’s neither of these.
I remember mother would care and share with at least one individual by either “praying for” or feeding someone a meal she prepared. Where are these people today? What prayers do they offer to the Lord on her behalf? What meals will they share? What thoughts, what memories? Does anyone have any compassion for someone that cared for them? Don’t get me wrong, besides her immediate family, there are very few calls for my mother? It’s strange, the ones that were with her more, are now less.
There has to be someone that remembers who she was and how she loved. Right? Maybe does anyone really care? Or, maybe they have forgotten how to care? Or, maybe they are afraid of what may hear and see? I am.
Every time I see her, I see just the shell of the person that once was…she was many joyful things. She was many loving things, happy things. Yes, it’s difficult to be a caregiver. In many ways, it’s difficult to handle theses circumstances. It’s not that she’s my “Mom”, but she was my best friend, motivator, cheerleader and teacher. After my father died, she listened to my cries, even though she suffered in great pain herself. I never heard her complain. She garnered the strength to carry on and help me through college. Emotionally, financially, but most of all spiritually. She demonstrated a faith that I never imagined was a part of her.
Jesus was alone at the end. We all will be alone at our respective “ends.” But there’s a difference in “being alone” and “being lonely.” We do everything we can do for her not to be the latter. I don’t know what else to say.
I love and thank my mother for who and why I am. I’m not perfect, neither is she. But she has a good heart and spirit. You can always build a good life on those foundations of life.
Your post brought tears to my eyes. It is exactly how I felt. I have been trying to write about my mother’s journey – actually, our journey – because we both grew so much from it – and it is just so incredibly difficult to go back over how things unfolded. Our relationship was rather superficial for many years, and when it came time that she needed a little extra help, there was no one but me. At first, I was so exasperated – I didn’t know or understand what she was going through – and in writing some of this down, I realize how impatient I was at times. Over the next year, my mother’s condition declined rapidly. I found her a safe place to live and ended up visiting her there every day, sometimes several times a day, and during that time, we became not just mother/daughter, but the closest of friends. I grew to appreciate my mother as this incredibly strong, caring person, who even at the end was reaching out to others she considered less fortunate. She taught me so much, even with – and perhaps, especially with – this terrible disease. Helping my mother die – a little bit, every day – was the most important thing I have ever done. What kind of human beings are we if we do not? Hang in there. Be strong. Be thankful for small things.
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