This is something I wrote on February 21st, 2019
after visiting with my mother. ❤ Molly
There are daily reminders that we are all offered related to the fragility, impermanence, and preciousness of life. My mom gifts me with these reminders every day as I hold her in my heart and each day that I’m blessed with seeing her.
Today Mom was more alert and present. She immediately expressed how glad she was to see me, maintaining good eye contact and many smiles. And I decided spontaneously to ask her what I’ve been wondering. My mother’s memory has been declining for many years now, and she no longer remembers my brother, her parents, or any of her four husbands. So many memories are now gone forever. It has continued to seem like she knows me, and that she knows her grandchildren and great-grandchildren — not so much by name, but definitely as her “flesh and blood,” a term she often used when first talking about why she wanted to move to live near her family. But there has been more than one occasion where I briefly wondered if my mother knows who I am.
Today I went ahead and asked, “Mom, do you always know who I am? Or not so much — do you sometimes forget?” (I always give her the graceful and tender out of “not so much” when asking memory questions.) My mom didn’t miss a beat before looking deeply into my eyes and affirming that she does not have any issue with remembering who I am, saying “No. Not you. Never.” My eyes welled with tears. A beautiful treasured moment.
I went on to assist my mother off and on with getting small bites of her lunch on her spoon. Then Mom says, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I looked tenderly into her eyes and expressed how grateful I am that when I’m not able to be here that she receives such kindness and caring from those around her. And I affirmed how grateful I am to be retired and that I get to come see her all the time. Mom wrapped her hand around her glass of iced tea, picked it up, and said, “I’ll drink to that!” I just burst out laughing and told my mom how funny and adorable she is.
As I watch my mother gradually slip away more and more, I am so mindful of each treasured moment together and how incredibly blessed we both are to have come through so much and yet not given up on making the love we share today possible. Again and again I am reminded that miracles do happen. Blessed be. 🙏💜
Today Mom was more alert and present. She immediately expressed how glad she was to see me, maintaining good eye contact and many smiles. And I decided spontaneously to ask her what I’ve been wondering. My mother’s memory has been declining for many years now, and she no longer remembers my brother, her parents, or any of her four husbands. So many memories are now gone forever. It has continued to seem like she knows me, and that she knows her grandchildren and great-grandchildren — not so much by name, but definitely as her “flesh and blood,” a term she often used when first talking about why she wanted to move to live near her family. But there has been more than one occasion where I briefly wondered if my mother knows who I am.
Today I went ahead and asked, “Mom, do you always know who I am? Or not so much — do you sometimes forget?” (I always give her the graceful and tender out of “not so much” when asking memory questions.) My mom didn’t miss a beat before looking deeply into my eyes and affirming that she does not have any issue with remembering who I am, saying “No. Not you. Never.” My eyes welled with tears. A beautiful treasured moment.
I went on to assist my mother off and on with getting small bites of her lunch on her spoon. Then Mom says, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I looked tenderly into her eyes and expressed how grateful I am that when I’m not able to be here that she receives such kindness and caring from those around her. And I affirmed how grateful I am to be retired and that I get to come see her all the time. Mom wrapped her hand around her glass of iced tea, picked it up, and said, “I’ll drink to that!” I just burst out laughing and told my mom how funny and adorable she is.
As I watch my mother gradually slip away more and more, I am so mindful of each treasured moment together and how incredibly blessed we both are to have come through so much and yet not given up on making the love we share today possible. Again and again I am reminded that miracles do happen. Blessed be. 🙏💜
— Molly
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