Day 4 - 6/18/11
It just hit me that our days together are numbered. I am going back back home in 3 days and I almost can't bear the thought of leaving her. This has been the first and only time I've ever felt a connection to my mother and I feel as if I have to condense 55 years of emotions and communication into these few short days. I know she sees me, feels me, knows how my love for her has transcended all else, but still, there is so much I need for her to hear.
Another rough night for her; agitated, delusional, yelling. I was prepared for the worst, but again, when I came in her room and laid down next to her and looked into her eyes, she smiled and greeting me by name. " Hi Mom," I said to her smiling. " How do you feel today? " Still looking into my eyes, she asked, " Now? " I responded, " Yes, right now. " She answered, " Safe now. "
There's something about the way she stares into my eyes, a searching, trying to hold on to something, anything that makes her strange new world familiar. Still looking back at her, I told her that this, here, now, was what I've been waiting for my whole life, to see into each other's souls and know it was all worthwhile. I told her I see her, I know her, that I'm so proud of all that she's done, all that she is. I noticed a tear running down her face and wiped it with a tissue. " You o.k. Mom? " I asked her. " Proud " she responded.
I asked her if there was anything I could do for her. She answered, " Yes. Take me home. I'm done here."
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Sins of the Daughter - Part 2 - The days
Day 3 -6/18/11
My visit was short today. Mom's caretaker said she had a bad night, didn't sleep, was highly agitated, kept asking to die. I peaked into her room and saw her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. I called her name, moved where she could see me. She returned my gaze again, managed a weak smile and said " My little girl. "
She looked tired, defeated, restless, fidgeting with her blankets, feet and legs moving as if she were trying to run somewhere. " Trying to run away, Mom? " I asked her. She looked away. " I wish. " she answered.
My visit was short today. Mom's caretaker said she had a bad night, didn't sleep, was highly agitated, kept asking to die. I peaked into her room and saw her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. I called her name, moved where she could see me. She returned my gaze again, managed a weak smile and said " My little girl. "
She looked tired, defeated, restless, fidgeting with her blankets, feet and legs moving as if she were trying to run somewhere. " Trying to run away, Mom? " I asked her. She looked away. " I wish. " she answered.
Sins of the Daughter - Part 2 - The days
Day 2 - 6/16/11
She recognized me again, responded to my walking into her room with a smile. " I didn't think you were coming. " she told me. I smiled at her, looked into her eyes and told her I promised I would see her every day I was here. I asked her if that was O.K., would it be too much for her to see me all the time. " Stay. " she answered.
The rest of our visit that day was quiet. I laid down next to her, held her hand, looked into her eyes. And as it was the day before, she locked into my gaze and returned it. Again, all my emotions flooded my heart and all I could think of was how unfair this was, how vital and intense this woman once was, how this was not how she wanted to end up. In fact, this was her biggest fear. I remember thinking - does she understand what's happened to her, does she know where she is, what she's become, is she scared. Our eyes were still on each other and I saw what looked like terror. " Are you O.K. Mom? " I asked her. She shook her head no. " I can't imagine what this is like for you, " I told her. " Horrible, " she answered.
She recognized me again, responded to my walking into her room with a smile. " I didn't think you were coming. " she told me. I smiled at her, looked into her eyes and told her I promised I would see her every day I was here. I asked her if that was O.K., would it be too much for her to see me all the time. " Stay. " she answered.
The rest of our visit that day was quiet. I laid down next to her, held her hand, looked into her eyes. And as it was the day before, she locked into my gaze and returned it. Again, all my emotions flooded my heart and all I could think of was how unfair this was, how vital and intense this woman once was, how this was not how she wanted to end up. In fact, this was her biggest fear. I remember thinking - does she understand what's happened to her, does she know where she is, what she's become, is she scared. Our eyes were still on each other and I saw what looked like terror. " Are you O.K. Mom? " I asked her. She shook her head no. " I can't imagine what this is like for you, " I told her. " Horrible, " she answered.
Sins of the Daughter - Part 2 - The days
Day 1 -6/15/11
My mother recognized me. She called my name, knew who I was, seemed genuinely happy to see me. The thing that impressed me most was how she looked at me. There weren't a lot of words spoken; her verbal skills were limited to one or two word answers, and at times she spoke in unintelligible phrases, stuttering as if stumped by language and comprehension. I understood that our communication would have to rely on instincts, emotions and matters of the heart rather than intellect.
Her eyes seemed to lock into mine and I returned her gaze and stayed there for as long as she held on to it. I tried to say all those things I never had the courage to tell her with words, let my heart and spirit speak through my eyes. I couldn't hide anything from her, wouldn't let our past interfere with what was before me. Yes, I was filled with regret, remorse, shame, all those things things that pride, immaturity and anger get in the way of, but what I was really feeling was unconditional love, respect, honor and privilege.
I finally saw who she was, what she had been, and how much she influenced everything I was and still am. I noticed how much I looked like her, how we almost seemed like mirror images of each other. And, at that moment, she pointed to me and then back to herself and said the word 'mirror'. There was no mistaking. She knew. And I knew. Finally.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Sins of the Daughter
I wear my regrets like a straight jacket.
Up until this week, I believed there was no such thing as redemption. No matter how hard I tried, the best I could hope for was resolution and the most I would expect is resignation. With each passing year, the word 'Sorry' became a shadow, something to hide the ghosts that were destined to haunt me for a lifetime. And with the passage of time, I could only wish that I could gain the courage to walk through the shadows and face my demons, embrace them and pray they don't destroy me in the process. And if we're truly lucky, we'll get to see that they really weren't demons after all, but rather brutal lessons pointing our way back home.
There is nothing to prepare you for seeing someone you've known, loved and feared your whole life annihilated by Alzheimer's.
It defies words, feelings, humanity, transcends defining and goes beyond anything you can understand or explain. It makes you question life itself, defies the presence of God, fairness and justice and leaves you stunned and empty. It gives new meaning to helplessness and despair and touches your heart in ways it should never be touched.
My whole life, from childhood to middle age, I never really saw my mother, nor she me. I couldn't put our relationship in any category I could articulate, just figured we were two people related by blood and nothing more. The only common ground we ever had was our great love for my father, her husband, and when he died seven years ago, I assumed we were done with each other. We were estranged for many years and I honestly felt nothing about it.
It wasn't until my youngest brother Gary called me three years ago to tell me our mother had Alzheimer's that all that had changed. He told me I needed to speak to her while she was still somewhat lucid, that there was only a small window of time, that I would be forever haunted if I didn't.
That phone call made all the difference in the world to me. I was afraid, still, of what she might say, how she would receive me. But the moment I heard her voice, listened to her words, I finally understood that this was not the enemy. It was my mother.
Her first words were " All is forgiven. I've missed you. " We spoke for a few minutes, said our apologies and I love yous and hung up. Ten minutes later, she called back to ask if I had really called her or was it a dream. It was a matter of months before she deteriorated to the point of no longer being able to do anything for herself, lucidity gone, being reduced to a phantom, fading into the shadows. I tried to call her a few times a month, but with each conversation, she drifted further and further away.
I got to see her this week after eight long years. I was braced for the worst, expected nothing and thought, at best, I would get to say my good-byes without her returning the sentiments.
Nothing could have prepared me for our reunion. And if I ever doubted the presence of God, this was the one solitary thing that cinched the deal. I am now convinced that redemption comes to those who need it most, that souls are spared and we are indeed protected by something much greater than ourselves.
I walked into her room and saw her in all her helplessness; small, emaciated, staring into space, wearing diapers, drool dripping down the side of her mouth, stripped of absolutely everything that made her who she was. I walked into her line of vision, she locked her eyes into mine and I swear, for the first time in my life, I really saw her and she saw me. Her face actually lit up, she smiled and called my name.
Up until this week, I believed there was no such thing as redemption. No matter how hard I tried, the best I could hope for was resolution and the most I would expect is resignation. With each passing year, the word 'Sorry' became a shadow, something to hide the ghosts that were destined to haunt me for a lifetime. And with the passage of time, I could only wish that I could gain the courage to walk through the shadows and face my demons, embrace them and pray they don't destroy me in the process. And if we're truly lucky, we'll get to see that they really weren't demons after all, but rather brutal lessons pointing our way back home.
There is nothing to prepare you for seeing someone you've known, loved and feared your whole life annihilated by Alzheimer's.
It defies words, feelings, humanity, transcends defining and goes beyond anything you can understand or explain. It makes you question life itself, defies the presence of God, fairness and justice and leaves you stunned and empty. It gives new meaning to helplessness and despair and touches your heart in ways it should never be touched.
My whole life, from childhood to middle age, I never really saw my mother, nor she me. I couldn't put our relationship in any category I could articulate, just figured we were two people related by blood and nothing more. The only common ground we ever had was our great love for my father, her husband, and when he died seven years ago, I assumed we were done with each other. We were estranged for many years and I honestly felt nothing about it.
It wasn't until my youngest brother Gary called me three years ago to tell me our mother had Alzheimer's that all that had changed. He told me I needed to speak to her while she was still somewhat lucid, that there was only a small window of time, that I would be forever haunted if I didn't.
That phone call made all the difference in the world to me. I was afraid, still, of what she might say, how she would receive me. But the moment I heard her voice, listened to her words, I finally understood that this was not the enemy. It was my mother.
Her first words were " All is forgiven. I've missed you. " We spoke for a few minutes, said our apologies and I love yous and hung up. Ten minutes later, she called back to ask if I had really called her or was it a dream. It was a matter of months before she deteriorated to the point of no longer being able to do anything for herself, lucidity gone, being reduced to a phantom, fading into the shadows. I tried to call her a few times a month, but with each conversation, she drifted further and further away.
I got to see her this week after eight long years. I was braced for the worst, expected nothing and thought, at best, I would get to say my good-byes without her returning the sentiments.
Nothing could have prepared me for our reunion. And if I ever doubted the presence of God, this was the one solitary thing that cinched the deal. I am now convinced that redemption comes to those who need it most, that souls are spared and we are indeed protected by something much greater than ourselves.
I walked into her room and saw her in all her helplessness; small, emaciated, staring into space, wearing diapers, drool dripping down the side of her mouth, stripped of absolutely everything that made her who she was. I walked into her line of vision, she locked her eyes into mine and I swear, for the first time in my life, I really saw her and she saw me. Her face actually lit up, she smiled and called my name.
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