The past eight months with Alda (mom) has been a wonderful gift. For a 78 year old woman she is certainly spry. Every morning she would do her “Tai Chi”, as my brother would say, balancing on one leg while she pulled on her pants or tied her shoes. This while she was by the side of the bed – who needs to sit down when you can stand on one leg to do everything. Never mind that I tried to tell her there was a law that forbade people over 75 from standing on stools or balancing on one leg, she would just smile and say, “I don't believe it.” You can't pull the wool over her eyes.
Our journey together began on November 19th, 2009 when my father died and left mom alone. I wouldn't call it sudden, but it sure happened a lot quicker than we thought. True to dad, he always thought he had more time than he did and he left without having a plan in place for mom. Her dementia had made it impossible for her to be alone in the house and so I stayed for six weeks, cleaning out the house (a whole other story, let's just say – don't ever do this to your children!), and managing the day-to-day tasks of a household – cooking, washing and endlessly having a looping conversation about what mom should wear that day, what we were doing, who was coming, where were we going, who were these people that kept calling, etc. She was at that awkward stage, not ready for a nursing home and not able to be by herself anymore.
Before I had come home, I was grieving for the mother I used to know. My mother was the queen of memory and detail. She retained all sorts of information and kept all family/friend connections stored for quick retrieval. Many a conversation would start with, “you remember so and so, who was married to so and so, who went on to do this and that…..” and you would get a detailed blow-by-blow of this person's life. I didn't inherit the memory gene and I wouldn't remember any of them. That never stopped mom, that just made her give you more detail as if that would stir some part of your brain into remembering. Bless her, she never thought I was a lost cause.
For five years mom had been slowly losing her memory in startling ways and for the past two and a half it had really begun to progress. I am sure dad had been in denial and then when he had to start picking up some of the slack like paying the bills and doing more of the cooking while he still tried to fit in everything else he wanted to do, that he just got overwhelmed and kept on putting off the inevitable planning for their future, especially mom's care.
So mom came home with me to Alberta to live with my family for six months. We arrived December 29th and she settled in. Pat and I moved out of our room so mom could have the master bedroom with bathroom and we began to discover who Alda is. What we found out was surprisingly wonderful. Mom had entered a phase in her life when everything was new and she had the time to notice it all. The simplest of things were a joy to her, the sun in the sky, the cloud formations, the birds that flew by, the cat in the neighbour's window, the children playing across the street, each phase of the moon, ice cream for dessert – nothing was too small to catch her attention. While I raced around trying to get it all done, mom became fixated in the moment and let each moment capture her soul. I began to realize that I hadn't lost the mom I knew, I had gained the opportunity to get to know the person she is, fully alive and more than the sum of her memories. She is whole the way she is, the moment being all there is. I knew I had a great teacher in my midst and I am still gaining insight into all the lessons she gave me.
Mom went back to Toronto in late June after our trip to Iceland and has been staying with my sister Peggy and her family. She will soon move into an assisted living retirement home and I can't say that she is excited. There has been so much change for her and it hasn't always been easy. We have learned more about how to help her adjust and at the same time we know that there will be challenges ahead. Coming home to visit allowed us to pick mom up and take her to Gimli for a family reunion. Hanging out with mom again is a real treat, she keeps the smile on our face with all of her sayings and doings.
Last night we went to Happy Hour at Betel (the nursing home in Gimli where her sister Emma is) and the old-time music was playing. Mom got her toes a tapping, her favorite thing to do is dance and when the opportunity came, I went over and brought her out for a twirl. In that moment there was nothing else, just Alda and me dancing in pure joy. That's what real memory is, an imprint of a moment on your soul. Remembering is a totally different thing and so I know that whatever happens, this moment will be with me forever. Thanks for all the memories mom. I love you.
Watch Alda & me Dancing – Betel – Happy Hour – August 13, 2010