Well, it’s been one year since my Mom died. I have alternated between dreading this anniversary and wishing it would just hurry up and get here.
And now it’s here.
The last few years were hard on her. You see she had watched my Grandmother be ravaged by dementia in the 1960’s and my Mom was always petrified that she would get it too.
In her last year or so of life it was a crap shoot as to whether she would know who I was when I went to see her. I used to pause before I came through the door of her nursing home, wondering which Mom I would see that day.
I could see the difference in her eyes when she looked at me. No joy that I was there. No spark of recognition.
Oh crap, it was going to be one of those days!
On those occasions I just carried on my conversation like she did know who I was. Hoping that at some point in my one sided conversation something inside her brain would make the connection and she would snap out of it. She never did.