Essence
I was watching the news and there was a son who was talking about the loss of his father. His dad died not from Alzheimers, but an unidentified dementia.
The news story was about his frustration on getting help, and a diagnosis.
I about fell off my couch as I heard him almost quote me word for word. He talked about the pain they felt about their father as they watched him not become their father anymore. The very things that made their father's personality, their father, slowly slipped away and he became another person ... first he lost intelligence, then he lost social skills, then he lost memory (exact pattern we're dealing with in my mother). Because the memory was not first, and his father had started out as a highly intelligent person, getting the medical community to take him serious, had been difficult.
I've been fighting that battle.
I so identified with this gentleman ... as he talked about his father not being his father anymore.
I said it a few months ago, and I have to keep reminding myself.
I will cope with this all a little easier when I realize that the essence of who my mother was, is no longer there. That the person who raised me, is gone. I have to stop expecting the person that is here to respond to me the way that MY mother would have. Because whatever this dementia is, has taken the essence of who she is away.
The thing that hurts the very most is that she while she is starting to loose some memory, and get some confused ... the memories that she is loosing first ...are the good ones. The happy times, the pleasant things. She's remembers the bad and the terrible ...and that is heartbreaking.
She remembers my father and how badly he treated her. But I have to remind her that she was married to my step father who brought her tulips because he thought she was prettier than they were, but they'd make her smile. She remembers my father critisizing her cooking ...but forgets my step father's planting her 100 irises ...
She remembers the pastor who abandoned our church to have an affair, but forgets the pastor who traveled from California to Colorado to be on our doorstep the day after my step father died.
She remembers the rejections and forgets the many acceptances.
She's had many rejections, and no one should have had to go through those. But she's had many joys, but she's starting to live in the bitterness of someone who has never had joy, and I've started to realize, it's because it's the pain that's staying and the love that's being forgotten ...
because the essence of who she is ... has been stolen by whatever this is.
The news story was about his frustration on getting help, and a diagnosis.
I about fell off my couch as I heard him almost quote me word for word. He talked about the pain they felt about their father as they watched him not become their father anymore. The very things that made their father's personality, their father, slowly slipped away and he became another person ... first he lost intelligence, then he lost social skills, then he lost memory (exact pattern we're dealing with in my mother). Because the memory was not first, and his father had started out as a highly intelligent person, getting the medical community to take him serious, had been difficult.
I've been fighting that battle.
I so identified with this gentleman ... as he talked about his father not being his father anymore.
I said it a few months ago, and I have to keep reminding myself.
I will cope with this all a little easier when I realize that the essence of who my mother was, is no longer there. That the person who raised me, is gone. I have to stop expecting the person that is here to respond to me the way that MY mother would have. Because whatever this dementia is, has taken the essence of who she is away.
The thing that hurts the very most is that she while she is starting to loose some memory, and get some confused ... the memories that she is loosing first ...are the good ones. The happy times, the pleasant things. She's remembers the bad and the terrible ...and that is heartbreaking.
She remembers my father and how badly he treated her. But I have to remind her that she was married to my step father who brought her tulips because he thought she was prettier than they were, but they'd make her smile. She remembers my father critisizing her cooking ...but forgets my step father's planting her 100 irises ...
She remembers the pastor who abandoned our church to have an affair, but forgets the pastor who traveled from California to Colorado to be on our doorstep the day after my step father died.
She remembers the rejections and forgets the many acceptances.
She's had many rejections, and no one should have had to go through those. But she's had many joys, but she's starting to live in the bitterness of someone who has never had joy, and I've started to realize, it's because it's the pain that's staying and the love that's being forgotten ...
because the essence of who she is ... has been stolen by whatever this is.
posted by 30 years from Darling at
10:53 PM
3 Comments:
When my father died (with Alzheimer's), I remember feeling cheated that I never got to say good-bye to him because he checked out in bits and pieces. What a cruel disease dementia is--it really does raise questions about what is the essence of our being?
My therapist ...er former therapist (I dont' have one anymore) asked me in January after her mini stroke if I'd said everything I needed to say to her.
Thankfully, I had a couple of years ago before everything started to get chaotic and her personality started to change.
It was before the frustration started to take hold.
I got the privilage of saying what needed to be said in some very very public ways. A Mother's Day tribute at church I got to read something I'd written about the spiritual legacy my mom had planted and a woman at church threw mom a surprise party just to let her know how much she was loved and how proud everyone was of her. 75 people showed up to that tribute ..and my sister and I read a life story.
In addition to the 75 guests, there were another 52 cards sent, some were from friends as far back as 35 years before.
It was wonderful timing, we had no idea that within months she would start to decline rapidly.
It's too bad your mom is living in painful memories and forgetting the good times. I don't know how this works. Is it always like this? Or just for some and not others?
If you haven't met JeanMac at A Mountain Too High - you must. She's dealing with her Alzheimer husband.
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