After I was married and had a child of my own, I’d get excited whenever Mom came to visit from Florida. Then I couldn’t wait until she left because all we did was argue. She’d start fights with me and say she was never coming to visit again because I was crazy. I’d tell my husband that I never wanted to see her again, but every year the same pattern repeated itself. Why? What were we getting out of it? How is it possible that I can only realize how deeply I love her now, and couldn’t then?
I didn’t realize how far my mother’s Alzheimer’s had progressed until five years ago, when I flew down to visit and experienced a terrible shock. My mother, always proud of her appearance and housekeeping, was dressed in dirty, disheveled clothing. She looked like a bag lady. When I asked if she wanted to comb her hair, Mom picked up her toothbrush and used that. She hadn’t flushed the toilet. Her mirrors were so covered with dirt that it was impossible to see any reflection. Her kitchen cabinets and microwave were coated with food drippings. It was clear that she had no idea what food was in her refrigerator, if she had eaten, or how to use the microwave.
I tried to talk Mom into moving to New York. My dad had passed away several years before, and I thought she’d want to live closer to me, where I could also be able to watch over her. New York, of course is her childhood home. But she was steadfast in her determination to stay in her home in Florida where she’d been so happy with my dad. My brother and I had several discussions, and we decided that our mother needed someone to look after her.
Mom now struggles to remember the name of the man I’ve been married to for thirty years. She has signs posted around her apartment to remind her to do even the smallest daily routines: “Flush toilet,” “Brush teeth,” “Wear clothes, tops and bottoms.” Will her mind soon become a blank canvas?
Life can be strange. Today my mom, whom I once argued with every day of my life, has become a delight and inspires me with her strength, courage, and joy.
Our lives go by so quickly. We don’t get to pick and choose our own grand finales. We march through events that will become memories without stopping to examine them as they’re happening. More days, months, years are behind us, gone before we know it. Why should I make a big deal of my mother’s losing her memory when she does not? Like a child, Mom lives in the moment, and most of her moments are happy ones.
“Mom, if you could wish for anything you wanted today, what would it be?” I asked the last time I called.
“For my children to be healthy and happy!” she said with such joy in her voice.
If I could wish for anything today, I’d wish that Mom could grow old without any illnesses. Since I can’t have that, I am grateful for this new way of being with her. If my mother hadn’t gotten Alzheimer’s, I would never have learned to love her so unconditionally. All of the qualities that once drove me away—her energy, her courage, her wisdom, her strength—now draw me to her.
Mom, I dedicate this book to you and all the other families that are struggling with this disease called Alzheimer’s. My mom has truly become my hero. I love her so deeply and hope that she will never forget that as she slowly fades away.
TESTIMONIALS
Lisa,
Just wanted to send you a note to thank you for your inspirational blog. I read it last night when I needed to see another person’s perspective on their relationship with their mom with Alzheimer’s disease. My mom is newly diagnosed, and I am starting to come to terms with it. I am tired of feeling helpless. A lot of the information and stories shared by others are quite depressing, and to be honest, right now I need something positive. You have provided that by writing honestly about your loving acceptance of your mom and where she on her journey with Alzheimer’s today. Please keep sharing your story!
—Natalie
Hello Lisa,
I just happened to stumble upon your blog today. I want you to know you are very inspiring with your story and the way you’ve opened up about your relationship with your mom. My mom also has Alzheimer’s. She was diagnosed at the age of fifty-two. She is now fifty-six. My father and I are her full-time caregivers. I am struggling every day with trying to hold on to what little glimpses of her may show up. I truly just want to thank you for opening up and letting me in.
—Emily
Lisa,
I love reading your blog. You are so sweetly upbeat and positive. You are an inspiration to me, as you help me keep me “sunny side up.”
—Randy
Just wanted to say I have been reading your blog. It feels like you are talking about my mom. So many of the things you say are what I go through every day. Twice this month she showed real excitement in seeing me. This felt good, but I knew something wasn’t quite right. Then she proceeded to tell me that I was her mother and she was my daughter. I know from going through this for two years, with both parents having Alzheimer’s, that you try to laugh and gently see if you can get them going on the right track. After several minutes she looked at me and said, “I am your mother”! I said, “That’s right. You are my mom!” I had a very difficult relationship
