—Alicia
September 6, 2012
What Becomes
of the Broken Hearted?
This picture was taken in October 2011, with my son Logan, me, Mom, and my brother Gil. Mom looks happy. What I remember about this day was that she did not want to leave her home. We had to force it upon her. Although she’s smiling in the picture, I would not say that she was really thrilled to be out. I think she enjoyed being with all of us, yet having lunch by the ocean and feeling the warm breezes blow by meant nothing to her. For me, I loved the day, because it is not that often that the four of us can get together, especially since we live in different states.
In the beginning of this week I phoned my mother because I wanted to share something exciting with her. Logan had just gotten an apartment with his girlfriend. I was feeling so happy, yet my eyes were moist with tears. My little boy, who has grown up, finished college, is working, and has been living on his own for the last four years, was now taking his next “big” step. As I see it, he and Julia, after dating for two years, were now making a deeper commitment to one another.
As Logan has taken each step in his life, they are both exciting and thrilling to me and are quite sentimental. I called my mom to share all this excitement with her. With much enthusiasm, I shared everything, including my happiness as well as my heart pangs. I know that since she is a mother, she had to have similar feelings when my brother and I took each new step.
While speaking to her, the phone just went silent. Mom said nothing. She didn’t even make a comment, which she has been able to do, nor did she give any words of wisdom. There was just dead silence. Mom had put the phone down. Her caregiver picked up the phone and put her back on. I once again in a more simplified matter shared everything with her. I then asked if she had anything to say. Wasn’t she listening? Didn’t she care? Couldn’t I speak to Mom and have her be excited with me?
Not this time, and probably not too many times in the future. I questioned why couldn’t she be there for me? I used to love to call her when I needed advice or had something exciting to tell her. Those days seem to be long gone. I felt both sad and lost, and I felt like crying. I only wanted my mom back. Is that too much to ask? The answer is yes. Alzheimer’s seems to destroy inch by inch someone’s entire being.
My thoughts went deep and dark, and I was beginning to feel such anger to this disease. I had to pull myself together and get back to the lighter side of life, or I could drive myself crazy. Yes, I had to remember other moments that Mom and I can share. I quickly thought of the laughter and all the words we say to one another that are filled with deep love.
Maybe this was just a bad day for her. Tomorrow will be better. I must lighten up and stay on the brighter side. I wish that I could remove this horrific disease from my mom’s being, yet I know that’s impossible.
September is World Alzheimer’s Month. We all to need to help spread awareness around the world, and find a cure for Alzheimer’s. Hopefully this will happen in my lifetime, and if not, certainly for future generations.
I’d like to send to all the families who have a loved one with this disease, and to all their caregivers, much love. Although I felt a broken heart for my mom, I know deep in my heart, that broken hearts can heal.
COMMENTS
Wonderful story. I so relate to what you are feeling.
—Lisa
I have been planning to call home, to talk to Mom and Dad for almost two weeks now. The calls are tough, but shame on me for not making them more often as you do. I admire that about you. You keep calling. It’s too late now, but I promise I will call my folks tomorrow.
—Anna
Your blog and your story is an inspiration.
—The Alzheimer Society of Manitoba
Hi—I just read some of your thoughts about your mom. It helps to read about other people’s relationships. I see so many similarities—at times, I wonder, am I imagining things or over re-acting to something. My husband can seem so normal for moments and then be so different. I wonder, did I make a wrong decision when I placed him in a Memory Care Unit, and then I remember all the reasons why I did. At other times, I think, maybe I could take him home and hire help to take care of him. And then I just feel guilty. I feel so alone without him here. I have family and friends, but it is not the same.
I thought I would feel relief and I think my family expect me to feel relief but I feel like a piece of me is gone.
Thank you for sharing your feelings. It helps.
—Louanne
Hello,
You don’t know me, but I saw your blog that you posted on the San Diego Alzheimer’s Association page. I read through some of your blog postings and love that you are documenting your time with your mum. I’ve been around people suffering from various types of dementia including those with Alzheimer’s my whole life. My mum has cared for them for over thirty years. I did volunteer work with them throughout my childhood and teenage years. More recently I worked as a caregiver for a woman with
