Quote I'm Pondering

Being a grownup means assuming responsibility for yourself, for your children, and--here's the big curve--for your parents.

~ Wendy Wasserstein ~

What do I do when what seems best for me, or for my husband, or for our children does NOT seem best for my parents? How do I balance it all?

There Are Advantages

When I think of Alzheimer's, my mind is bombarded with the difficulties of this long, slow, painful journey we've been forced to embark upon. But there is another side to it, and I want to make note of that today.

My parents spend a lot of time with my family, so they see us, not just when all our clothes match and our teeth have been brushed and we've put on our happy faces, but also when we're scrubby and grumpy. Sometimes things will happen that I'll wish had not occurred--I'll speak to my mother with a bit of impatience, for example--and later I'll feel very badly about it. But my husband is quick to console me with a "she probably won't remember it anyway!" comment, and that does bring a tiny portion of solace to my heart. I hope that somehow, the ugliness of life will fade from her memory, and only the beautiful portions remain.

Another thing I've noticed about Mother is that she'll often make sweeping statements, particularly about the food we eat. Since they eat nearly every evening meal with us, she gets to sample all of my cooking; but the wonderful thing about that is how appreciative she is. It's a rare night in which she doesn't say at least once, "Thank you so much for supper; it was delicious!" And more and more often these days, she'll include comments like, "That chicken your husband grilled was the best grilled chicken I've ever had!" or "That potato casserole you made had the best flavor!" I smile, say "thank you," but in my head, I question, "Really, Mother? Out of all the years of your life and the MANY times you've had grilled chicken, this was the best? And are you sure this potato casserole was any tastier than other ones I've made--or you yourself have made, for that matter?"

Oh, well, I guess I'll just be grateful for the little things, the unexpected advantages of dealing with such a horrible disease. Are there advantages?! Yes! Like the fact that, as her memory decreases, she really does think she's never had a salad so scrumptious as the one I made for our supper. As I laugh a little to myself, I'll try to simply say, "I'm so glad you liked it." :)

All Eight

While reading news articles online today, I happened to see an article about 8 symptoms of Alzheimer's. Of course, anything with "Alzheimer's" in the title catches my attention, so I immediately clicked over and started reading. I read the first symptom--and thought, "Yes, Mother has that." On to the second one--and again, "Mother has that." Same with the third...and the fourth...and so on...all the way to the end.

All eight. She has all eight. That shouldn't surprise me; but to tell you the truth, there are still times when I wonder, "Is she really so bad off? Has it really progressed so much? Is her behavior really so abnormal? After all, it's typical for older people to have some memory problems...and she's still basically functional...and...and..."

But then I realize that, yes, she certainly has the disease; and even though her progression (which is really a regression) is mercifully slow, and even though she (and we) have learned to compensate in so many ways for her failing mind, she still has it.

And always will.

Until the end, whenever that may be.

How I long for heaven and the restoration she will enjoy when she gets to that perfect place!

It Used to Be...

...that my mother would occasionally cook Sunday dinner for us and have our family down to eat with them. Living on the same piece of property gives us the advantage of easily sharing mealtimes! And so, it's our custom for my parents to eat dinner with us every day, unless we or they have something else scheduled that takes us away from that time with each other. I'm continually grateful for the privilege of having all of us gathered around our table, and I dread the day when a plate gets taken away and a spot remains empty.

I guess it was about four or five years ago, when I only had two children and Mother was more capable of fixing an entire meal, that we would join them at their house for lunch after church. I'm not sure exactly when it stopped. When was the last time? Clearly, I had no idea at the time that it would be the last time. It was one of those things that we outgrew, so to speak, probably precipitated by me having another baby...and then another baby...and it was just easier for us to eat here in my house where we had baby supplies and a high chair and a crib for when the baby got tired and sippy cups and plenty of plastic plates and...

This makes me think of the children's book by Karen Kingsbury, Let Me Hold You Longer. I don't have that book, partly because it's the kind of book that I can't make it through without crying! But, as I understand it, the premise of the book is that we notice and celebrate the "firsts" of childhood, but how many "lasts" go by unnoticed and unappreciated...

...until one day, you sit down at your computer and you realize that it's been years since your mother cooked Sunday dinner for you and you know in your heart that she'll never do it again. And your heart aches from the memory of it all, and you wish fervently that you could go back in time and appreciate it all a little more. You'd sit at your mother's table a little longer. You'd chew your food more slowly and savor the taste of her wonderful home-cooking. You'd memorize the look and sound and smell of those Sundays in her kitchen. You wouldn't rush up the hill to put the baby in bed for his nap. You would have said "thank you" one more time and given your mother a hug before slipping out the door. You would have made sure she knew how deeply you treasured those times.

If only you had known...