Of course there is some sadness that I did not tell her the truth, and even more that we live so far away from one another. How special it would be if I could see her at least once a week as my brother is able to do.
My mom said that she remembered that I was at her home, yet she could not say when or for how many days I visited. I knew from her caregivers that for the first week after I left, she walked around calling my name and looking for me.
We continued our phone call, and I had Ruthie spelling from A–Z using countries, cities, and states. I started off with Arizona, then Barcelona, Connecticut, and onward. When I asked her to spell New York, she started to sing the lyrics to “New York, New York,” and when I reached San Francisco, she sang, “I Left My Heart in San Francisco.” These songs have become familiar to most of us, like national anthems.
When Mom did not understand my pronunciation of some words that I asked her to spell, she sharply told me to speak English. She made me laugh, and I did feel joyous for she sounded so aware and alert. She was into our spelling game and scored a ninety-five—for her, almost perfection.
If my mom did not have Alzheimer’s and she said what she said to me, I might have felt annoyed. Now it is quite different. As far as I am concerned, my mom can do no wrong. I just appreciate and cherish every word that comes from her lips.
On this particular day, she was as sharp as a tack and filled with much clarity. I once again wondered if it was all the coconut oil that my brother has her caregivers give her each day. He read an article about how it had helped someone with Alzheimer’s. So he immediately bought it for her. At this point I do not mind the things he tries, certainly since something might work. No one really knows.
I ended our phone call with telling her how much I loved her and said, “Mom, I wish that I lived close to you.” Ruthie answered, “Me too. Who knows, maybe one day we will.” With a smile and a wish, I whispered back to her, “Mom, wouldn’t that really be nice?”
Her sweetness and tenderness have me miss her so. My mom’s strength and courage has inspired me. She has become my hero. My love and appreciation for who she is just amazes me. Alzheimer’s may have stolen her memory, yet Alzheimer’s cannot steal the enormous love I feel for her.
I am so fortunate to also feel all the love she has for me, and I am sure that she still can remember how very much I love her. Tomorrow when I awake, although I will not be able to see her, I will still be able to pick up my phone and hear her sweet and tender words. For this I am quite grateful.
COMMENTS
I can’t help but to think that Alzheimer’s, in some ways, brings people back to almost a childlike state of mind, when at times you can’t tell them the truth since they simply wouldn’t understand the truth or accept it—which is okay. I have seen some similarities with how you treat someone with a memory disorder and how you would treat a young child. This is not to say at all that there is a loss of preciousness or sweetness as we advance in age and possibly develop these awful disorders, but unfortunately, we probably have to change how we act and react around mom and dad when it happens. I am so glad, though, that you seem to apparently have good days with her still, and that she is still communicating. You so obviously love her tremendously.
—Danny
Thank you for your story. I sometimes wonder, what would happen if I were to take my mom to East Germany, where she was born and now is asking for all the time. In September last year, we talk her to the seaside of The Netherlands. She liked the ocean and the wind. Suddenly she had a twinkle in her eyes. She liked it and also to see the children playing in the sand. We went there only for a day, and we will never forget how happy she was for a moment. One day later, she didn’t know anymore that we went away for a ride to the seaside. The journey to East Germany, where she was born, is long, and I am not sure whether she can bear it. I have been thinking about for few weeks, and I don’t know how to decide. But I could imagine that it would be better for all to be in here and now situations. It’s great to read how deep your love for your mom is. Thank you. I wish you all the best. May God bless you all.
—Marnie
Wonderful story. I so relate to what you are feeling.
—Shari
Lisa,
I love your writing style and can relate to so much of what you say. My mother has had Alzheimer’s for about the past eight years. As you said, it’s hard to tell exactly when it took hold. There were signs galore, but I wanted so badly to believe it was just “normal aging”
