This post is about grievng, but has actually nothing to do with widowhood. This post is about spending 10 hours today with my mom who has Alzheimer's.
My mom showed early signs of dementia right around COVID in 2020. We knew, but probably spent some time in denial before we got an actual MRI diagnosis of Alzheimer's. Alzheimer's and dementia are not exactly the same. Alzheimer's is a specific form of dementia that causes not only symptoms of dementia, but physical changes to the brain.
There is no other way to put it other than Alzheimer's steals the person you once knew. I remember when my husband, Brian, died at Angela Hospice in 2015. I remember sitting with the kids next to his cold body waiting for the funeral home to come and I remember thinking "this is not my husband anymore." This body is just the shell that housed his soul. You can not have one without the other--we are both body and soul.
As I spent time with my mom today trying to engage with her in any kind of meaningful way, I realized I was feeling very similar to the way I felt when Brian had passed, Yet she is still here, physically stronger than most 80 year olds I know. I can see her soul in her eyes, but it is like she is trapped within her own body and she can't figure out a way to get out. I know everyone in my family has been grieving since early 2020, but the grieving, at least for me, has become more persistent. My fun loving, control freak, stubborn, opinonated mother has become a quiet-being, observing the world as if she were seeing it for the first time-sometimes with wonder and awe of a child, sometimes with complete bewilderment and sometimes in just a numbing silence. The moments of remembering anything are pretty much completely gone. Those moments of hope when you tink maybe she is still "in there" are fading fast. I feel for my dad who everyday watches the love of his life fade. The ironic thing is that she knows when he is not there--she may not be able to verbalize it well, but she senses it.
Alzheimer's causes a different kind of grief. A grieving period that happens long before anyone passes away. If you have a loved one that has had Alzheimer's you understand what I am saying. And yet, even in my grief, I feel the blessing of having my mom still around. She still wants to hug and kiss everyone, even strangers, probably more so now than ever before in her life. I hate this terrible disease, but I try to remember that she still knows joy at this point even if she can't express any of her feelings that I know she would want to. I remember when my grandma had dementia. I remember her in her quiet stage, but she was still present- being the matriarch of our family. I respect the influence her role had on our family and I feel the same way about my mom. My mom is no pushover and her presence as the matriarch of our family has been instilled in us just like it was with my grandma. I respect her role in instilling family values even to this day. My mom, together with my dad, have built a family, imperfect as we may be, that knows the importance of family, despite our own differences and our own wounds.
Mom, Alzheimer's may steal your mind, but it won't steal your heart, and it won't take the soul I can see in your eyes. And, until the day God calls your soul home, you are ours. One day, God will reunite you with all the Saims, Sadeks, Zajdels, Dudeks, Wontrobskis, Bobers and whoever else I forgot, who are waiting for that great big Polish feast in heaven where Alzheimer's will be no more.
Until then, we will love you and cherish you in our grief and in our joy.
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