My heart is aching yet again for my mother. I sit down and realize how fast time is passing for me between being "mommy" to my children, a good wife to my husband and the many chores that come with everyday life. It all passes so quickly that I rarely have any time to sit and reflect on the day that has past. I don't give myself credit for the things I have done, yet the things I just couldn't get around to, loom over my head until I fall asleep at night. I regret to say that as I set with my mtoher on the couch tonight, I realized in the past week (if not longer) I haven't REALLY set and talked with her much at all. I mean other than chatting about whats on TV or while we are eating supper, I just don't have much time to sit and have a conversation with her. How precious are the words that come out of her mouth. The same mouth that sang such sweet lullabies to me when I was younger. Though her thoughts emerge in bits and pieces, I can still understand her. I guess its very similar to the way I understand my 15month old son when he starts muttering in his own language. I guess that connection between a mother and her child never changes. In my mind, I know she is not going to get any better that where she is right now but my heart just tries its hardest to block it all out. Hide from the truth I guess. Maybe that is why I don't sit and talk with her as much as I should. I guess it could be possible for me to be subconciously finding something else to do in order to avoid the disease that is holding my mother hostage in her own body. Its very hard to sit and watch her struggle to find the words. It's hard to watch her feet shuffle across the floor so carefully, a woman who used to carry herself so well. I really hate this disease more than all my words could ever express! How can the mind play such cruel tricks on a person. I would much rather die a painful death with cancer, than live one day knowing that I have Alzheimers. It just seems so unfair, the kind of unfair you just can't comprehend unless you see its daily destruction. I mean how can you forget how to put your shoes on or how to open a car door? Something you learn to do early in your childhood. I guess we take for granted everything in life that "we" consider so "simple". This goes much deeper in my opinion than losing a leg or an arm but still be able to think and speak with your own mind. There is no prosthesis for your mind! Something that I have learned is that the mind is of much more value than your heart. Death would be more like being able to "live again" if you ask me. I just wish I had the answers as to why my mother had to have this! Knowing that her mind still semi-works, how does her heart feel? How does she deal with the frustrations and will she ever find peace again? I can't even begin to imagine. I'm slowly losing my mother each and every day. I lost my dad when I was 22 and now at 26 I just have a portion of my mother left. Maybe my siblings feel more at peace because they are older but me, I am ANGRY. Angry that my children will never know either of my parents for who the "really were"! If you would have told me all of this was going to be my life 15 years ago, I wouldn't have believed you. I don't believe it now.
Catherine
(Just needed to get it out) see if anyone feels like me
Last edited by Longing4MyMom; 02-15-2006 at 09:47 PM.
Reason: jj
Catherine, I do understand although my mother didn't start to leave me until I was almost twice your age - but we'd lived hundreds of miles apart for 30+ years, so I saw her only a few weeks each year for all of that time.
It's not fair, it's awful and it's difficult to be the authority when you speak to the one who was always the one in authority. All of us understand the uncomfortable transition that takes place after the heartbreaking realization that your loved one is losing her abilities, intelligence, humor, and all that make her who she is.
My mother enjoyed it when I read to her no matter what it was that I was reading. Even after she had difficulty finding words, she could sing hymns and some songs if I sang too (and I don't have a good voice). At her last birthday party just months before her death and 14 months after she forgot how to walk, she joined in singing the birthday song. Where was that in her memory??? She had such a surprised and happy face and she recognized that song and the words. She connected with us when she'd been somewhere else for so long.
Perhaps there are songs that you and your mother can sing together now. Perhaps your mother and your son can do simple puzzles together. Take pictures to show your children who their grandmother was, how she smiled, and tell them how much she would have loved being there with them.
Catherine,
Like Barbara, I didn't have to go through this at such a young age. I feel so badly for you. I can't imagine how devastating it must be.
Reading your words meant so much to me. At 59, I still feel exactly as you do. It just isn't fair. What is so disturbing to me is that we are all grieving. Normally, this is done afterwards. But in our case, we grieve for years before their life ends. That is hard, to grieve while we're still with them and caring for them.
I know what you mean. I lay awake every night, wondering what she's "really" thinking, what sensible thoughts are left, how much does she really know.
I also think, by writing our thoughts down, whether here or in a journal, we're working through our grief. It's a good thing. We have an outlet for pent-up anger and rage and guilt and sorrow. I'm glad you're here, and I'm glad you're open with your feelings.
You've helped me "see" more of myself, feel more of my own sorrow. And we'll work through this. We really will.
Yes, it is grieving. In fact, it is a kind of dying. The person we loved so much is already gone, only an occasional light shines through. I find I can cope with it far better now that she is safely in a nursing home, but I still miss her. When somethig interesting or exciting happens, my first thought is, "I must tell Mom.." then I realize she will not know what I am talking about or even who I am, and any response I get will be inappropriate to the situation. So I don't tell her. I have already lost her.
Thank God I am already a grandmother myself, not a very young mother like you, Catherine. I hope you find the strength to cope with your huge loss.
I know what the grieving now feeling is all too well lately...this horrible disease takes away the vibrant, full-of-life people we knew for so long, and turns them into a bitter, angry, and violent, self-centered person. All the things my mother never was. I am in the grieving process now, because the mother I know and love with all of my heart is not here most of the time. She has been replaced by someone whose heart is filled with hate, anger, distrust.
I have a co-worker who is dealing with her mother having lung cancer right now....I ran into them at a restaurant about a month ago, and Mary asked how my mom was doing. I told her, and I looked at her and said that if given the choice, I'd MUCH rather deal with what she is dealing with...at least she knows what person she will be waking up to in the mornings....I never know what person I will see in the mornings, or when I come home from work.
My thoughts for today... 
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