Dearly Beloved

The time finally ran out. All the life I had so carefully preserved and kept going disappeared within the vanishing body that kept her essence. My Mother’s passing this early August was expected but something I earnestly worked to avoid.

As her caregiver for over eight years and best friend for more than I could possibly count, a disease robbed her and myself simultaneously of the life I envisioned rather than the ending I received.

She passed away from Alzheimer’s/Dementia. It’s a real life sentence but simply unpronounceable words to me. It was my honor to take care of her for all those eight years and my dismay to allow a disease to take her away forever.

I’m in the process of writing her a series of letters. I’ll most likely find the perfect fancy box to put them in one day. It’s rather like her favorite Christmas movie “The Christmas Box” in which the older lady writes letters to her deceased daughter Andrea and places them in the box year after year.

I started in a nice journal and now I’ve turned to a screen. Neither seem to do justice for the woman who changed my life and shaped my life.

I guess we always hope our loved ones can read the letters. I’d like to think she can hear them when I read aloud. It makes me feel that even though she’s not in the same room the words echo across time in a large void of space.

The space is large. I realize this. For me it’s a void I can’t fathom and one too large to travel in any manner.

It hits me. It hits hard. Time is everything. If that’s all I had in my possession and control. It’s a small amount of time I choose to remember. Just me and my mother and perhaps too little time is the way I choose to define our journey.

This is the first of many letters I’m attempting to write. I use the word attempt because with every letter I scrawl it never seems perfect.

It matters to me. It almost has to be perfect. She was perfect. My mom was absolutely perfect and now the ever imperfect world I reside in seems different without her.

Dear Mom,

The loss of you has rendered me more than a feeling they call loss. As I look around, I see a world and you no longer add the touch of a life so precious to it.

This world seems different now. You effortlessly danced through it and glistened with hope and belief. You believed in family and taught me nothing was more important.

Taking care of you was easy. It wasn’t even negotiable although I was constantly encouraged to place you elsewhere.

The mere notion of simply dropping you off wasn’t fathomable. You did so much for me in my life. I couldn’t digest the suggestion of outside doctors or professionals. It was you mom.

You taught me family was the most precious possession. You were irreplaceable. I took care of you because I could never abandon you.

Looking back, I’m glad I didn’t send you to a nursing home. I learned so much about healthcare and even more about you and myself. I was more capable than I ever imagined. I got that strength from you. As if nothing phased you, grace and radiance beamed from your soul even on the darkest days.

I don’t know how you managed to carry yourself through the shadows of a disease that intruded your life. You did so with your ususal calm and steady influence. You even helped me. You were always teaching me throughout my life. You inspired me mom to continue on even though I was losing everything including you.

It wasn’t anything new for us. We had overcome sickness before. We did so together as a family. When you got the shingles, I got adult chicken pox. When you recovered, immediately you got into gear to help me. Buying tons of sandwiches and playing UNO every night when I was diagnosed with post neuralgia was one of the many times you looked past your own recovery time to help me.

Caring for you during your disease was much easier than watching it. I was always grateful for another day. Even when you lost your ability to communicate, another day meant you were still in my world. You weren’t gone. Selfish I know but I had still won.

When I lost the days and you, the past eight years that everyone else told me I should take selfishly for myself seemed like a blink. I bathed, fed and took care of you in every way someone else does daily without a thought of how difficult it truly is when you’re disabled.

Although you were not mobile and fragile, your mind was sharp and brimming wisdom. While I should have been upset you couldn’t walk, my biggest defeat was that you couldn’t talk.

Talking meant you couldn’t bestow the extraordinary words that flew from your mind. Words strewn into advice, your creative writing and beautiful singing were taken. I felt robbed.

I’ve never been one to fall into depression but not talking to you mom was amongst my personal darkest days. I felt alone for once and I remembered what you taught me. No matter what life throws at you, keep going.

So I kept going mom until you decided not to. The end allowed you the final say. There was nothing new in your words of wisdom.

Grace, dignity, sheer determination, love, family, hope and belief were the lessons of you mom. They’re the lessons that didn’t allow me to leave you behind on the battlefield of life.

Those same lessons won’t be forgotten. In my tribute to you mom and the things you taught me, I’m determined to forge a beautiful life. I’d like to make you proud.

I know it will include family and my personal goal to make a difference in the world.

Eight years leaves me less time in my own life but you were worth every minute. Nothing can replace you mom and I won’t even try.

Love,

Your Daughter