We are treating the next ten days here in Mississippi, the way my brother and his family treat Boston in the middle of February; we are exposing our skin to the elements as little as possible, running from our car to the nearest building for relief, and privately talking bad about any one who plans outdoor activities during this time of the year. It's a cruel time of year to live in the south. Eleven years ago, I was 39 weeks pregnant waddling around in it. Praise God, that is OVER! :)
Even with the extreme heat plaguing us, the shadows are getting longer and the days are getting shorter. Any time the seasons change, I spend more time than normal thinking about my mom. The woman celebrated each season as if it were her favorite season. Except, she loathed winter but adored Christmas. She was conflicted until January, and then made no bones about her disdain for winter.
This time two years ago, we were faced with horrendous task of placing mom in a nursing home. No family member EVER wants to embrace this reality, but at some point all family members will admit to being unable to give care to someone 24 hours a day, seven days a week without compromising the health and safety of the person who is sick AND the person who is the caregiver. My dad and my two brothers, did an amazing job of caring for my mom for absolutely as long as they could. Medical staff at the nursing home repeatedly commented about how shocking it was that Dad was able to keep mom at home so long. It was a gift.
There are seasons I allow myself the freedom to remember those days, not because I am wallowing in the past, but still processing the actual events themselves. Our brains have this incredible way of protecting our emotions from trauma for a long period of time, until we are actually able to process what took place.
It hit me today that my mom didn't say goodbye to me. We didn't have that inevitable conversation in which she told me everything she wanted to tell me before she could no longer tell me. And somehow we progressed through the stages so quickly, that before she or I realized it, she was no longer able to tell me goodbye. Sometimes when people are diagnosed with Alzheimer's, they write letters, they video themselves, they plan ahead for the time when their minds are no longer true to who they are, and their bodies wait in anticipation to get the memo.
That was not Mom's way. There was actually very little talk between she and I about a time that would come where I would be without her. She knew it. She was no fool. But while there was time, Mama lived. She took every opportunity to retell stories from her life, because there came a time when the past was far clearer to her than the present. She made funny jokes, and pushed all of our buttons just to make sure we were all still who her heart told her we were. We obliged, and often responded in our truest form, especially Zachary :) And Mom took every opportunity to remind us that if this disease was touching her, it had first come through the hands of her God. One day while she was having lunch with me, she reminded me again (there is lots of reminding with Alzheimer's ;) of this truth, to which I replied, "Mama, I know that is true and I believe it with all my heart, but it does not mean that I am not a little pissed about it and a whole lot sad about it!" She burst into tears, "It is shitty" she cried, "Oh, so very shitty, isn't it?!" We held each other and cried, and that was the closest we ever came to saying goodbye.
I can imagine now better than before, that her Mama heart would never let her resign to the fact that she must go on and leave her crew behind. As a mom, my children will always be just that, children. No matter their age or position, I'll always be their Mama and they will always be my children. Children; a word that evokes the need for care and keeping, and what had always been true for her was morphing into something unknown. She had always been the one to care and keep, and now for the first time ever, we were caring and keeping her. But in her own way, she kept caring and keeping us by being diligent to fight and never let us see her forfeit to the disease. Some might call it denial, others preservation :)
And while Mama maybe never officially said goodbye, she left me with an entire life time of memories to remind me of the way she felt about me. There is no doubt in my mind that my mother adored me, and that secretly I was her favorite :) (it's a joke, everyone relax :) My mom sacrificed her entire life to see that we were cared and kept. It wasn't always perfect, and she would be the first to tell you that, but she was there. And everyday, as I wipe the table for the tenth time, sweep the floor for the 5th time, make the 21st first meal in 7 days, fold another load of laundry, chop another onion for ground beef, and wash another dish, I hear her reminding me, "Be here! Live on! Don't miss this!"
Thanks for fighting mom, thanks for living!
All my love,
~Sara
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