Time and Memories move in two directions

"Time moves in one direction, memory moves in another." -William Gibson

Some of my earliest memories are flashes of the late 60's and muted colors- greens, reds, a friendly Irish setter, snow (lots of snow),  a lighthouse, and a friend who wore an eye patch.

Pretty random, but all of those memories have one thing in common - my Mom.  She was the one that built a snow igloo in Boston and giggled with us as we froze, took us to the lighthouse and romped with us on the Massachusetts shoreline after exploring Plymouth and the MayFlower.  She was not afraid to be silly, take us on adventures, chew us out, or make things fun.  She worked hard to make sure we knew how to do chores, do our best in school, be responsible for our decision and actions, and learn about Jesus.  She taught me how to fly kites, fish, hunt for pheasants (yes, with a gun), make things that we couldn't afford, save for what we wanted or needed, and know that we were loved.

In 2009, we began seeing changes in Mom and eventually, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease.  On October 20, 2016, my Mom changed her residence from earth to Heaven, and is forever free from the horrible disease that robbed her in so many ways.

Mom would have been so horrified to know how the Alzheimer's had left her.  I know that's why she tried to hide it so long from us.  She learned early in life to be independent, and I feel she knew something wasn't right. She knew things were changing.  She would have mourned

Momma and Sister

Missing her grandchildren getting married, and having babies of their own.

• Not being close to Sister and the closeness they shared. 
• Not being in her own home, church, and with her friends
• Taking care of "her birds" and helping others like she did. 

In the midst of all this, I knew I was losing the Mom I always had, but I didn't want others to think less of Mom or forget who she was.  I didn't want the Alzheimer's to define her or us.  It was just a final speed bump and challenge that she would experience and endure. There are a few things I am thankful for during these last few years:

• For the first time, we spent an incredible amount of time together that we normally would not have had.  It wasn't easy, but we did have some laughter, many tears, challenges, and memories.  It was a strange, but rare gift I am so thankful for.  
• Momma would not remember all the hurts, frustrations, anxiety, the health issues it presented, nor how it made her behave.  
• It brought our family closer through the challenges and gave us experiences that helped us to empathize with others walking through this journey. 

Our family has been "fortunate" that we have not experienced grief and loss, but we knew that it was coming.  With Mom, I grieved with each visit and memory that would pop up, and with her disease, there is a dual grieving time and I didn't quite understand that completely, but I live it almost daily.  

It's in the still of the night, when all other distractions of the day, are quiet, that the only thing moving is my brain.  It's then that the memories and pictures start playing in technicolor, and somehow, my brain starts adding to those memories. It doesn't matter how tightly I close my eyes or try to think of nothing, they rush at me like waves on the beach, constant, inching closer and closer, till I'm left with a restlessness that is resolved only by filling the void with quiet nighttime distractions.

I wanted to share with you what I shared with family and friends at Mom's celebration service following her death. It is about things I learned from Mom, but I wish I had added one more paragraph - what I learned from Mom about Faith and God, but my brain was attempting to put a whole life into five minutes, and I just couldn't do it. Mom would not have liked all the attention and people talking about what a great person she was.  But we did. We tried to honor Mom during her service, so Elvis, Alan Jackson, and Cat Stevens "came" to sing, and at Mom's graveside service we shot off fireworks.  Yep!  Right there in the cemetery we lit her favorite "One Bad Mother" and the 100 Missile shots. I think she would have been delighted, but she would have made sure we picked up every bit of trash because that's how she was.

Mom taught me a lot of lessons growing up.  They weren’t through lectures or even those switches I had to cut from the tree out back, but they were through daily life.  riding a bike down a dusty gravel road, learning to balance without holding on to the handle bars while clapping and singing about Peter and John healing a lame man.

“If you fall off, you get back on and don’t give up.”  This is what my mom told my 8-year-old self when my new birthday gift, a palomino, decided to bolt and I didn’t have my feet in the stirrups. When she finally caught up with us 5 blocks later, I was shaking and couldn’t wait to get off that horse… But she wouldn’t let me and made me ride that horse, with corrected stirrups, all the way home.  We later had the best memories riding our horses in the country.  She didn’t once tell me I couldn’t break or train my colt, but encouraged me to work every day, sharing what she knew from growing up on the farm, showing and checking to make sure I wasn’t missing any important steps.

Don’t quit… Mom never let me quit anything, just because it was hard or I lost interest. The first day of college was always the hardest for me, and exactly three times, I called her from the payphone, begging her to come get me and let me come back home.  She would drive over two hours to the college, help me settle in and then drive all the way back home.

Be frugal and Creative – She had many interest - wood working, crafting, taking care of wildlife birds, and taking care of others. We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but from the time I was a baby, mom created clothing for me until the time I married.  Side-by-side, she taught me to read patterns, make short cuts, and pattern alteration. Hands on learning at it’s best!  When I was growing up, she created the cutest and fun birthday cakes that looked so professional. This only frustrated me when I attempted to do the same for my children and they ended up looking like something a child would do.

Plan and know!!!  She was a planner… She would research anything she wanted to purchase, pros and cons, or plan to do.   That is something I inherited from her.  She always knew the day of the month of the year that she would pay off any bill or save for what she needed.  Sometimes I think that may have been a curse she tossed my direction.   As the sign changer for TCC, she prided herself at not using the same saying more than once.

Life is an adventure – Have fun and laugh!   We used to play tons of games growing up, and whether it was Candy Land, Gin Rummy, or Yahtzee, she never went easy on me and let me win.  A win against her was earned!  When my brother graduated from college, she drove to Joplin to stay with me so we could go to his graduation.  The night before the ceremony, she decided she wanted to TeePee and fork his yard. It was a ton of fun to sneak over there and decorate, but a little instruction on holding on to the end of the roll when you throw it was needed.  She loved being silly, holidays with the family and making a big deal of accomplishments, small or large, but she didn’t like the focus to be on herself.

 Grandkids – She was an awesome grandma and loved seeing them when she could, creating memories and traditions as she went.  We didn’t always see eye-to-eye on how she wanted to spoil them, but she loved them like crazy.  From creating giant bubble solutions, teaching them to drive stick-shift, holding tea-parties, shooting off works, chase fire-flies, sticking a coffee packet on her nose to get the kids to laugh, listening to them play their musical instruments together, or always having waffles with homemade blueberry syrup when we stay with her.  

I would also like to share what my sweet cousin and friend, Raine, wrote,  because she shared her heart and memories from a different perspective.

Many family gatherings were spent at Aunt Betty’s.  As a young child, I was always excited to go to Niotaze to spend time with my many cousins, Aunt’s, Uncle’s and Grandparents.    Since Aunt Betty lived right across the road from my Grandparents, it was always a bonus because I would get to see Aunt Betty, Lynnet and Bryan every time I would visit my Grandparents.   After my Grandparents passed, Aunt Betty’s house became the place for all the family gatherings.    At Easter, the cousins would gather to hunt Easter eggs in her yard; a tradition that continued with the birth of her grandchildren and great nieces and nephews.    A yard that was always neatly manicured, adorned with beautiful Japanese Maple trees around her patio to the peach trees and grapevines growing on the east of her property and a large garden to the south.   

4^th of July was always spent at Aunt Betty’s – A family tradition that my children always looked forward to attending.   It seemed each year, the fireworks show be better than the year before.   Because 4^th of July was her favorite holiday, she saved money just to go shopping at Jakes in Coffeyville with her sister Jerre, my Mom,  carrying the list of which fireworks were her favorite -  A list that was created from the previous year.   You see, there was a rule we had to follow.  Us kids gradually learned the requirements it took to be able to light ANY of the fireworks with Aunt Betty’s satisfaction and for people that knew the rules, we would secretly laugh at the ones that broke the rules or were unaware of the rules.   1.) You first had to announce the name of the firework you were getting ready to light.   2) You also had to make sure she heard the name of the item that was going to be lit.  3.) You then had to make sure she had time to write it down.     THEN she would way ‘OK!  I’m ready!”    Afterwards, she would give the item a rating as to whether it was worthy of being part of next year’s fireworks show!    New comers to the gatherings, such as friends, or impatient and anxious teenagers that wanted to hurry and shoot off some fireworks, were often scolded for not announcing what was being lit and sometimes had to retrieve the already shot item and try to read the name of firework.   Words like “Wow!”  “Alright!” and even “That was a dud!  I’m marking that off the list!”  were the comments she would make! Aunt Betty was serious about her fireworks and we all were thankful to be able to share this love with her.   A love which resulted in creating memories with three generations of family.

When I was 12, I was in the hospital because I broke my leg and Aunt Betty came to sit with me.  The following year, I had my tonsils removed and because of some complications, I didn’t go home right away and again, Aunt Betty came to sit with me.  At one of the visits she cheerfully stated “I brought you something from home that is much softer than anything you have here!”  I look over to see her pulling a roll of toilet paper out of her bag!  She always had a way of making me laugh!   Always a caring heart.   

At Thanksgiving she always made her famous pumpkin pies adorned with a crust leaf in the center and a cranberry dish that was always in the same white stemmed milk glass bowl.    She always remembered our birthdays, sending a card in the mail, being there for my children’s first birthday, graduations and wedding.    Aunt Betty was a stranger to no one, always being fascinated or interested with the people around her and making them comfortable.   She worked hard for everything she had, took pride in her children and grandchildren and loved life being in the outdoors.   She will be greatly missed by many and I can imagine that when she saw Heaven the first time, she said her famous word “WOW!” 

Lynnet

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” Vicki Harrison

Here a chick, there a memory

I have a confession.  I love going to Tractor Supply or farm supply stores.  I love the smell of the leather, the salt blocks, livestock food...  

I know it goes back to my childhood of having critters around.  The smell of the hay, which occupied half of the barn, permeated every nook and cranny, often housed small gray mice and rats, which scampering one could hear upon creaking open the heavy wood door.   I have memories of standing as still as possible, in the middle of the barn, waiting with baited breath, to see if I could spot of the  critters, stomping on the wood floor to send them to their hiding places again.  It was like a game, but in reality, they weren't really that scared of us.  A large hay hook enabled one to pull a bale from the tower of hay, sectioning off a few squares of hay to fluff for that day's winter feeding.  Plunging the huge metal scoop into the 50 lb bag of horse food.  The pellets spilling about as the horses crowded close to snatch the first bite before the plinking of the falling pellets hit the wood trough.  Their velvety soft noses exploring coat pockets for special apple or carrot treats if you didn't act fast enough.  Tromping to the north end of the pasture, water from the cistern was pumped into the white chipped and dilapidated claw-footed tub that served as a water trough. the horses scattered droplets of cold well water with their noses, shaking their heads before plunging their noses under and blowing bubbles.  

Hefting the 40 lb bag of grain-free lamb dog food in the basket, I glanced towards the back of the store, drawn by the glow of heat lamps in the middle of the aisle.  I was instantly propelled back to my childhood, as I glanced into the huge galvanized feed troughs, from which chirping, fluffy balls of yellow huddled beneath the warming lamps.  If it weren't for the locked enclosure keeping people from handling them, I would have been in the middle of them. 

Growing up, we didn't have a farm implement store close and ordered our baby chicks through the mail. The second you walked into the doors of the post office, the much anticipated peeping of the chicks filled your ears...  Looking back, it was such a wonderful time building memories.  I actually have felt sorry for my own children, that they did not experience the same chores and memories that Honey and I have growing up in more rural settings.

A new Sparkle

Our Engagement

I'll always remember that day, Friday, October 13, 1989. We drove to the city park, in the city where we had attended college, and in the fading of the day, as the city settled down to sleep, he asked me to be his wife. I remember looking at that ring on my finger, so many times in the hours and days that followed. It wasn't the biggest ring, the most sparkly, or expensive, but what made it so incredibly perfect, was Honey picked it out. At the time, Honey made a statement that, someday, he would replace that "small" ring for something bigger and better, but I told him I didn't want that. He felt bad that it was all he could afford on his limited salary at his new job, but, to me, it was the most beautiful ring ever.

Day of the accident

So long dead Explorer

I've worn that ring for 26 years now, until that fateful Christmas Eve in 2015, when it was damaged in an accident that totaled our worn out Explorer. The only injury I sustained was to my hand, and I didn't realize until weeks afterward, and the swelling went down, when I tried to put my ring on, that it was in such horrible shape, and the diamond was missing. I was so incredibly heartbroken.

So I left it off for a whole year and I missed it. I thought about wearing it on a necklace, but instead wore my mom's simple diamond ring when I went out in public. This last November, Honey said he was tired of me not wearing a ring, and he had been saving up for a new one. Off to Zales, with my original ring we went, hoping for good news on getting it repaired. We were shocked to hear it was go my to cost over $1,300 to repair all the prongs, strengthen the bands, replace the diamonds, and make it new. "Looks like its time for a new ring," he said.

Old ring and new

 The representatives/saleslady was so incredibly thoughtful and patient to walk us through this. She listened to me babble and occasionally cry, heard my comments, and presented me with a narrowed choice of three rings, that I might really like. It was really fun, a tad nerve wracking, to really figure out what my ring style was. Blessings: I was a tad nervous to think about paying for this new one, but when she said it was part of the collection on sale, then she gave us an additional small discount, but the part that tore at my heart was when she said "You can apply the value of your old set towards the new ring, but you'll have to turn it in." I just bawled at the thought of letting my ring go. We knew our kids wouldn't want it, but I was so emotionally attached to it. Eventually I handed it over to her, cried some more, as she kept handing me tissues.
This was my first time to ever pick out a ring, but I must say I love my new ring. I think it is me and it's so sparkly and I feel married again. It's amazing how that ring in my finger, or the lack of it, affected me. I was sitting at a stop light once, and the sparkle and zing of the light hitting it distracted me. The cars behind me had to honk to pull me out of it. Boy was I embarrassed! 

  

Fuzzy Memories

My brother and I at our grandparents in Kansas

As I get older, some memories seem to pull up less frequently, but given a nudge, they seem to explode.  

Last month, Honey and I took a weekend get-away to attend Niece's baby shower back home.  While there, we made a quick jaunt up to Mom's house to check on it.  Honestly, I dread going in there.  While it is cleaned up and pretty neat, there are still reminders and memories tucked in just about corner that flood my heart. Most of the time, I leave so sad.  My Momma should be there, hugging us when we arrive, her list of Do-projects sitting on the bar, standing at the door, waving as we drive away.  Now, all I leave are tears...  Alzheimer's just sucks.

As we were checking on  different areas of the house, I discovered her old Singer Slant-O-Matic 500 Rocketeer Sewing Machine shoved back in the corner of a closet.   It was the machine I learned to sew on a a very young child , Mom made most all my clothes, and my bridesmaid dresses were created on it. 

Mom's Rocketeer

Such great memories there!  Grabbing it, I started searching for the box of feet and accessories I knew went with it.  If I could get it running, I thought I'd give it to Only, since she doesn't have a sewing machine.  In my search, I came across a forgotten box of photos and slides shoved under some material.  Grabbing those, I added them to my growing pile of memories on the bar.  Behind the photos and slides I found the accessory box for the sewing machine! It was a great day for discovering! 

Honey grabbed a sturdy "vintage" 16' wooden ladder from the garage that was used out on the farm during the depression.  I wanted it to put my quilts on.  Because it was so incredibly long, we had to cut it into two 8' parts to get into the truck bed.  Since the smaller section was still too tall for the space I needed, I decided to put one section in my kitchen above the cabinet.

The forgotten Outhouse

My discovery in The old Outhouse, which Mom used to store tools, made me cry upon finding the old sled from my childhood, and begged Honey to let me take it home.  So many memories made on that during those cold Kansas winters. It should make it's decorative debut this winter on my front porch.   

Once home, I allowed myself an evening to venture into the box of slides and photos.  To my delight, I found this nifty Guild Mini-Master slide viewer and with each slide, memories came flooding back.  I found if I held up the Mini-Master up to the light and held my cell phone up to take a picture, I could awkwardly manage it.   Before I knew it, I was texting pictures to my brother and we spent a good two hours going back and forth. Many of the pictures that have Mom in them... She looked so incredibly young and, of course, she had this boundless energy that helped her to keep up with two active kids.

Boston Memories:  Santa was not a favorite of mine when I was younger, but I'm sure I was not alone in my fear.   I wish I could remember more of our time in Boston, but am thankful for the picture to fill in the blanks.  See the car in the background?   That dusty station wagon was our family vehicle until I was probably in middle elementary.  The dust would literally roll in through the cracks and windows on the old country roads.  I can almost feel the grit on my face.

Christmas:  If you look closely, past the cool toys that we got and some we still have (that doll and firetruck were AWESOME!), you might be able to see several Elf-on-a-shelf predecessors, that Mom put on our tree each year.   Since we had several of them, they really were just a decoration.  I'd like to say we were "perfect" children and didn't need Elf-on-a-shelf, but the spanking board and cut switches we had testify otherwise.

This one made me smile.

Time in Kansas

My childhood home

 At some point, we returned to Kansas briefly, to buy a house, start some renovations on the early 1900's home to make it livable.  We had no indoor bathroom, but an outhouse and cistern off the back porch served their purpose.  The 1970's avacado colored kitchen was about the size of a small bedroom, but the  suited us perfectly. Our baths were taken by hauling water from the cistern at the back of the house, heating it on the stove, and pouring it into a galvanized washtub.  It was always nice to be the first one in the tub!   The house doesn't even look like this now.  The two porches were remodeled for more bedrooms and a new kitchen, but the memories on those porches were priceless!  On days when we had summer thunderstorms, my brother and I would take our toys, games, and Barbie/GI Joe dolls, and play on the side porch.

side Porch and back of house

         

Hanging stocking on the door

Grandma and Grandpa Wilson

One of the best things about living in KS was having Grandma and Grandpa live directly across the street from us.   They had this huge tree in the front of their home with a wood swing under the front part and up by the trunk was a huge tractor tire filled with sand for grandkids to play in.  On beautiful days, one would find them sitting on the swing, just enjoying the day or resting from chores.

Ugh, Easter Pictures and lace

Most of my early childhood was spent sharing this bunk bead with my brother.  We had the most fun with that thing!   I learned quickly that I could aggravate my brother to pieces by putting my feet on the underside of the top bunk and push up quickly.  Probably pay-back for all the torture he dished out.  That baby doll I had was one of my favorites, but Mom told me that after I got her, I somehow pulled her hair out, and she used a marker to "draw" hair on her.

Easter Egg hunts were fantastic in KS, especially with the cousins!  There were tons of hiding places, old trees, old tractor tire that was our sandbox, flowers, porches, and more.  Mom used to count all the eggs she put out, to make sure we found them all.

Florida
Life was pretty carefree for us.  We loved our school, have a wonderful choir and piano teacher, a block full of kids our age (we lived on a military base), we walked or rode our bicycles everywhere by ourselves (choir, swimming pool, movies).  We knew which yards had the wonderful friendly dogs that loved to be petted, and frequently got chewed out by officers for my brother making me ride on his handle bars when we were out.  I'm not sure if Mom ever followed us in the car on our escapades, but she somehow trusted us.  Mom made us take Judo lessons, which I hated, but my kids think it's pretty funny.  I wanted to take gymnastics like all my friends and wear the cute outfits and dance, not wear a bulky uniform (which I still have).  Notice that after two years, my belt is STILL white!!!  

Our Choir and Piano teacher

This was one of our first Christmases

there.  Can you spot the vintage toys?  They were a blast to have!  That Barbie plane, Viewmaster, GI Jim RV, Barbie Camper, Blythe doll,...The nativity set under the tree was always the first decoration brought out before any other. until close to 2008 when it became too much to have Christmas at Mom's home.

Pinball machine we loved. 

Mom had just had back surgery the second Christmas there and she had to sleep in the pullout couch in the living room.  It made the best place to sit and keep her company, playing games and dolls, and reading books.


Back in Kansas

Kindergarten Picture

 At this time, the side porch of the was converted to an extra bedroom, and my brother and I, for the first time, had separate bedrooms. I remember when a septic tank was installed beside the house and we actually had running water!  The back porch and storage room were converted to an indoor bathroom with toilet and shower, and the laundry room for a brand new washer and dryer!  No more laundry mat and outhouse!!!  Mine was yellow shag carpet, with a yellow canopy bed yellow sheer curtains with white embroidered daisies, and posters of kittens, horses, and puppies on the white paneled walls.  We had chores of feeding chickens and gathering eggs, feeding the cows, tending to the garden, and keeping our rooms spotless.  Mom would tell us that the minister was coming over for Sunday lunch and he would be checking our rooms. I can't believe I fell for that! If only that ruse worked now!

Raine

One thing I loved about being back in Kansas, was being close to the cousins again.  Our extended family was pretty close and nothing compared to a Saturday afternoon to play with Raine, while the parents got together.  I always envied her blonde curls, but I later learned that those curls came with a price - sleeping in hard plastic rollers with pins stuck in them.  A few years ago, we had a good laugh during her visit here, when we figured out that we have the exact same desk as children, except hers is white and mine is brown. Somehow, her white one always seemed so much fancier than my brown one.

Off to school! 

Thanks for stopping by and going on a memory journey with me.  Do you have a favorite memory from your childhood that you could share?  I would love to hear about it!

******************
p.s. I was able to take the sewing machine to our local Sewing Machine Center and $90 later, it was in good working order.  Only was thrilled to have it when we delivered it to her a few weeks ago and is looking forward to learning to sew more using a 66 year-old machine that was her grandma's.  

Looking for the light...

My Momma

Sunday was Mother's Day and after lunch with Honey, Youngest and two friends, and a nap, I slipped out of the house to visit Mom.  Occasionally, Mom will get a few cards from friends back home and I try to read them to her when I visit. This time I went armed with a Braums Strawberry shake for her and a chocolate one for me, a birthday card for my brother that I wanted her to sign, and a pen.

Sometimes I dread going to see Mom.  Never knowing if I will see that light of recognition in her eyes or will I be a stranger?  Will she ignore me or hug me?  On the days that she does not know me, I don't stay long.  It's not that I want to, but she looses interest and ignores me.  I usually end up talking to the CNA (Certified Nurses Assistant) or watching whatever TV show is on at the moment.

That day, she was sitting at a table, clutching a cup that held the droplets of a Mighty Shake.  She has long since forgotten how to use utensils and her appetite is dropping, but there are these wonderful little high calorie shakes that she loves.  In fact, the nurses that give meds keep an extra one on hand when they go down my mom's section because she likes to sneak one from the med cart.  As I sat down, she was resting her head in her free hand.  I touched her hand, and she opened her eyes, peering at me.  "Hey Momma!  I'm your daughter."  Usually that's how I start and sometimes, after 10-15 minutes she may seem to know I'm someone she should know.

"Oh, it's you!  You're the first," she said referring to birth order, but I'm actually the second.  She looked beautiful in her floral blouse and purple dress pants and it caught me off guard.  She physically reminded me of the old Momma, before this disease took over and I had to fight the tears.  Lindsey, the CNA, had curled her hair and painted her nails a beautiful deep pink earlier.

She tried to make conversation, but the words are just not there.  Her brain, jumbled, only allowed a few words before she got that worried look on her face, and then she saw me.  Her hand lifted, brushing my hair back from my face. There was a light of recognition in her eyes.
 "Where is your husband?"
"He's at home mowing the yard."  She frowns as she tries to process this as she slurped her shake.  She watches as I take a drink of mine.
"What is that" she ask with interest, licking her lips.
"Oh it's a chocolate shake. Why don't you take a drink of yours?"  
A female resident sidles up next to Mom.  "She danced with me today.  She likes Elvis you know."
Do you have a man? Momma questioned.
Yes, I have a husband and kids," I answered pulling out my phone to show her pictures.  Somehow she knows that strange little device holds pictures and ask for it from time to time. I took the opportunity to take a picture of her, selfie style.
"Ew, who is that?", she asked pointing to herself on the screen.
"That's you, Momma.  Don't you look beautiful?"  She frowns. "Can you smile for me?"   She pauses, working her mouth, as if trying to remember how to smile.  Turning her face to me, she smiles and I snap the shot.  I never could get one of her looking straight at the camera. She kept sticking her tongue out at it.

Oh, the card you ask?  I attempted to put the pen in her hand and she fumbled  to grasp it.  The CNA got a scrap piece of paper to practice on.  I wrote the word MOM, so she could copy it, but she could not even do that.  The CNA suggested I do a hand-over-hand writing with her.  Momma asked what was it for and I told her it was for her son.  She looked worried because she didn't remember she had a son.
"I should do something..." she started.
"Oh, you already are!  See, you got this card for him!"

Dinner arrived and I moved her into the kitchen area where she eats, as a fellow resident passed out silverware and drinks.  She has a hard time concentrating when she sits out with the other residents and often, the CNA will feed her and her roommate in there. Veggie Soup and a tuna sandwich!  I couldn't believe it.  The kitchen is supposed to prepare only finger foods for her. Picking up the spoon, I drain as much liquid off and begin feeding her.  This isn't something I ever thought I would do and it wasn't the first time. It's not something I'm comfortable with.  I can feed little kids with no problem, but my brain balks at my momma being so incapacitated that she can't feed herself, nor recognize how to use utensils.  She pokes her finger in her soup and puts it in her mouth. I push the soup a little further away from her and she eyes my chocolate shake as I spoon some carrots into her mouth.  She eats most of it and I try to feed her roommate siting next to me.  She eats some and spits it out, which does this at every meal.  Finally she finishes most of the soup and she spies the sandwich, poking her finger in it and tasting it.  We sit for a while as I feed her bite size pieces of her sandwich. My phone lights up with a message from Honey, and I know I need to head out.  Her night time meds are kicking in and she will be too sleepy to care soon. I pour the rest of my shake into her cup and she grabs it immediately.
"Mmmm, that good,"   closing her eyes in pleasure.  It's the simple things really.

My chair scrapes the floor noisily as I get up and she looks at me with a panic.  "Momma, I have to go."
"Do you want to sleep in my room?" she ask.
"No, I have to get home and get ready for work tomorrow, but I will come back.  I always come back."  She sighs and kisses me with soupy, chocolate lips. I leave the room and she has already forgotten I was there.  I walk to the locked doors with tears pooling in my eyes, forcing myself to not look back....

Please don't get me wrong and say I'm such a good daughter.  I don't see it like that.  I struggle greatly with this disease and all it brings, what it does to the individual and their families.  There are days I know I should go see her and I piddle around, mentally making excuses.  I think of my friend back in KS who has moved in with her mom to care for her, leaving her family home.  I know the struggle she is going through.  It is real, raw, frustrating, heartbreaking, and exhausting.  I know the struggle of another friend whom is Driving hundreds of miles each weekend to be with his mom, as she journeys through this. I see their devotion, heartbreak, and dread.  I think of my cousin, who lost her mom, my aunt to this over seven years ago. I hear the kindness and wisdom in her voice and messages.  I no longer look around the corner to anticipate what is coming next - I can't.  It's one day, one visit, one tear at a time, holding on to any light that may come to her eyes.

Between the Pages

It's midnight and the house is quiet.  Outside, amidst the roaring of the cold winter wind, snow flakes swirl and twirl, like laughter, racing toward the ground.  I sit, still in my Sunday clothes, surrounded by memories, when I should be sleeping beside Honey, a dog warming our feet. 

When Only married 8 months ago, we transitioned Youngest to Only's old room with the loft bed.  Dreams of what the now empty spare room could be, swirled and built, till I shut the door.  Trying to quiet the beckoning it held on me, I avoided it.  Not because I was sad of the new changes, but because I didn't have a plan. 

Through the pages of Little House on the Prairie, Blaze and Billy, Little Critter, Sweet Potato Pie, Robert Frost, Lentil, Love You Forever, Napping House, Chicka-Chicka-Boom Boom, and more, I watched my kids learn to enjoy books, but also learn to read. It wasn't until about seven years ago, when I first packed these books up, but they protested over and over... "don't put THAT book away, it's my favorite!"  

Now I sit, dogs slumbering at the door, with my back against a Pack-n-Play crib, smiling.  I sort and pack sweet memories, until they make an appearance once again, to become favorites all over again with our kids reading to their kids, making the stories come to life, and we find our friends between the pages once again.  

Lynnet 

Sing me to sleep

A little more than a year ago, we brought Momma here to live with us.  Though it was only five months, it seemed like much longer.  We learned so  much about not only ourselves, but Momma and Alzheimers.  To spare ya'll, I'll not go into it.  It wasn't all bad and it wasn't all great.  Please don't think I'm just an awesome daughter. Ha!  I'm far from getting the "Daughter of the Year" award. I've seen the ugly in myself and didn't like it one bit.  We're a family attempting to do the best we can, figuring it out along the way. We have much to learn.  

As Mom continues to decline, her anxiousness increases, and slowly she struggles to remember if I'm her daughter or sister.  She wants to know where her Mom and Daddy are, and can't remember what she is constantly worrying about, though we know.  She can no longer remember how to spell or write her name, what her friends' names are, or much else.  Reading is no longer. She believes she is still in her beloved state of KS, and that we drive hours each day to be with her. She claims she arranged Honey and my's marriage, and she loves to help out by wiping tables, picking up any trash and dusting the rails. We learn and grow as the disease progresses.  

Thankfully, the nursing care facility, we have her in is very close by and we visit her almost nightly.  It's not the largest in the area, nor is it the most state-of-the-art, but they have two special Alzheimer's Lock-down units. It is small and homelike.   If you've never been to a nursing home/ Health and Rehab facility as many are now called, they can be a bustle of activity and noises of regular residents wandering the hall, call alerts going off, the telephone ringing, someone's tv blaring, people coming and going... Something is ALWAYS going on, but if you were to walk through the Alzheimer's units, it's quiet and calm -   Something we really appreciate each time we are there.  It's not a perfect place, but it's the perfect place for Momma and we have learned to love it. God has His Hand there.  

Those who give:  We love to go in, greet the director and she knows us by name.  The nurses and aids recognize us and chat with us.  Letting us know how they interacted with Momma during the day when we can't be there.  We've learned to know them and appreciate what they do.  The nurse who is struggling with a rare form of breast cancer, or the single mom who is working and going to school for her degree, college students juggling work and classes, the director who is a huge Hog/Razorback fan, the CNA (certified nurses assistant)  who has such compassion and is so in-tune to the residents he cares, to the CNA that brings fingernail polish from home and treats the residents to weekly manicures.  They know their residents by name, give them love and hugs, know who likes to dance and sing, read books, play a game, play "kick ball" in the hall, do crafts, bake cookies, or even catch their favorite show Wheel of Fortune.  They give them hugs, kiss their cheecks, brush their hair, give them showers and tuck them into bed at night.  I can't tell you how many times we've visited and found them sharing their late dinner with a resident because they thought it looked yummy or wanted to try it.  That says love.  I cannot do the things they do.  I'm not even sure how they do it, but they do it with love.  

Residents:  We love to hug and greet the other residents, kid around with them and learn their stories, some of which are pretty fascinating.  One gentleman fought in the war and was a sniper for the US,  another a bank president, a mom, a business woman who fought to build up and save our little downtown and put it on the map.  We learn who likes chocolate ice cream or strawberry, some love to read and we gather their books and trade them for different ones at a local used book store.  Behind some of those grumpy faces, there are smiles and wonderful people locked away in their fading minds. when we take the dogs, they love it and thank us for bringing "their" dog to see them.  Sometimes, we let the dogs off their leashes and let them roam from resident to resident, gathering pats on the head, which are rewarded with many wags of the tail or a paw on their leg.  

Music     One thing that makes a difference to Momma lately is when I'm able to put her to bed at night (7 pm), music makes her less anxious about me leaving.  I'll pull up Pandora on my phone and play old church hymns.  It's pretty amazing to see this woman who cannot remember very much, suddenly start singing along, tapping her foot, and even smiling.  Tonight, after I placed a CD player in her room, and hit play, the CNA was getting her ready for bed and I  could see her lips moving. Softly singing along with old-time gospel hymns from Alan Jackson  and the Don Marsh Chorus.  She peacefully fell asleep, with her toe moving slowly to the beat, she sang:  

What a Friend we have in Jesus,all our sins and griefs to bear!
What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer!
O what peace we often forfeit, O what needless pain we bear....   

So, while Momma can really no long tell us who Jesus is, He is there and He knows her.  And I'm okay with that...

If you would like to read an all out, honest account of a wife struggling with her husband's Early Onset Alzheimers Disease, I'd recommend Missing Jim by Karen.