She's hanging in there...

That's my response every time someone asks how my mom is doing. "Physically she' doing okay, but mentally she's pretty much vacant." That's my most recent go-to reply. There's not much else to say. It's weird to think about how, when I started this blog 5 years ago, I was pretty certain we had maybe a year or two left with her. She was declining so quickly, it just didn't seem feasible that she would still be "hanging in there" 5 years later. We always knew she was a tough cookie, always scheming and finding a way to get what she wanted, so we shouldn't be surprised, ha! I'm still mourning her. I still, with guilt in my heart, long for the day we can say our official good-byes. I don't think Daddy is ready yet, though, so I will wait and grieve and miss her until God decides the time is right. This Christmas was hard. It was my first one coming home in the last 3 years. It was sad and I just wanted it to be over. I tried not to seem sad in front of Daddy because I know he feels lost without her during these times. He apologized for not putting up a tree. I'm glad I was here. I've been here since September, waiting for a job in Philly to come to fruition so I can move there. I need to be here. For me. For Dad. And maybe for Mom, somehow. We're all hanging in there.

The Long Good-bye

Wow, I forgot about this blog. I can't believe it has been almost three years since the last post. Maybe it was too hard to reflect on what was happening. Maybe I just got accustomed to her being gone (living in the nursing home). Well here we are, almost three years later, and Ms. Lillie is still running things at Daysprings! She eventually stopped asking us to take her home and trying to take her clothes out of the closet. She started playing bingo and dancing and telling everybody to shut up. She would even kick us out sometimes. I stayed in Dayton for another year, then moved back to Nashville once I was sure Daddy would be okay without me. He's still okay but it was definitely hard to leave him. I have tried to go home every few months and even spent a few weeks there this summer after Daddy's surgery. It's so nice being a couple interstates away. It's still hard visiting Ma. She definitely doesn't know me and even the slight recollection she used to have when I would walk in is faint. She's still walking and eating and reading and talking a little bit but there's a vacancy in her eyes. It's hard to see that. She doesn't understand simple comments or questions sometimes and I can tell it bothers her. She wants to understand. She wants to know who I am. I know she does. It's a blessing she's still with us and able to do what she's still able to do. But I'd be lying if I said I don't still wish sometimes that I could grieve once and for all. The long good-bye is the best nickname for this disease. I feel awful, absolutely awful for even thinking about how much easier it would be to say my final good-bye. I truly don't know what would be worse: not having her here at all or not having "her" here. I already miss her terribly. Every time I think about how life would be with her here, really here... I just can't. But I am grateful for the time I still have to kiss her cheek and call her Mama to her face. One day I'll find out which is worse, and I may long for the day when I could touch her warm skin. So I'll try my best to enjoy her while I can.

1123

That's the number to her new room at Daysprings health care facility. AKA nursing home. We moved her in today after much thought, prayer, tears, and doubt. I didn't realize it was possible to feel this guilty about doing the right thing. I know it's the right thing because she's sick and we don't have the skills, time, patience, or ability to emotionally disconnect. All of which are necessary for her to receive the best care. This was absolutely the hardest day of my life, to date. Heather and I dropped her off in the morning and it became clear that we would have to make a clean break before long. She, Lamar, Tristan, Dad, and I went back this evening which also didn't go over well. She was hell-bent on someone taking her home. I know it's going to be like this for a while. We will continue to visit her every day if possible, so she knows we will keep coming back, but I doubt visits will get any easier for a long time. Along with the guilt and sadness, I feel like I'm in mourning to a degree. This just makes it clear that we are in the final stages, however long that will be. She will most likely never live in this house again. We will probably visit her in the nursing home for the rest of her days. We have already started talking about things in the past tense. "She was always so sneaky!" This part, I hadn't anticipated. I also didn't prepare for the sense of relief that I feel. It's kind of nice being able to leave my room unlocked or not wonder if I should check on her b/c she has been upstairs for a while. I don't have to tiptoe as I get ready for work tomorrow morning. But then I feel guilty for feeling relieved. Just can't escape the guilt right now. I know I will one day but for now I remain on the verge of tears as I think about how scared she must be right now or wonder if she feels betrayed. I kind of wish I could run out of tears. God, please mend my breaking heart.

Stay at home daughter

It's gotta be way harder than being a stay at home mom. At least when it's your child, you can discipline them and you can have hope that one day, they'll "get it."

So I moved home December 21, 2009 to help take care of my mommy, who is in the advanced stages of Alzheimers. Gave up my independence, freedom, a good job, and a great city (Nashville) to fulfill my daughterly duties. It sucks... but I would have it no other way. My dad can't do it alone. My sis-in-law (God love her) can't help as much as needed. And I want to be here. I want to support my dad and spend as much time with ma as I can. Who knows how much time we have?

Today, I found out she doesn't know I'm her daughter. I asked why she named me Deirdre and she insisted that she didn't name me, nor did she carry me for 9 months or give birth to me. She has kids but they're all young, according to her. It didn't hit me as hard as I thought it would. I guess I've kind of guessed this was the case over the past couple weeks. It makes sense, now, why she doesn't trust me. Why she doesn't like to go places or allow me to cook for her. I thought it was because she thought I was "child Dee-Dee" but I think she hasn't considered me a daughter all along. At least she hasn't forgotten Dee-Dee. She loves talking about my accomplishments and showing me pictures of myself when I was little. She loves her little girl! I'm just not her. I may not be her daughter anymore but she'll always be my mommy.