It’s been almost 10 years.
On November 13, 2013, I admitted my mom into the Hebrew Home. She’d been living with an Alzheimer’s diagnosis for 3 1/2 years already by that point. When she first entered the facility, she was terrified, depressed, sad, and then she fell in love with another resident, a man with a forceful personality and a confident smile. She was happier than I’d ever seen her.
But that was a long time ago. So much has happened in the years since then.
She made friends and then forgot them. She got sick of the food. She visited the Judaica Museum on the first floor, attended numerous concerts in the Winter Garden, walked many times among the sculptures on the paths along the Hudson River (all with me). She ate numerous cups of frozen yogurt in the River Cafe (also with me). She went to Grandparents’ Day every year and wore the t-shirts the staff gave her to commemorate the occasion. On every Saturday or Sunday or whatever random day I visited her, she said hello and then goodbye to me, sometimes with a smile, sometimes with tears.
As more time passed, she forgot more.
She stopped walking and dressing herself. She stopped eating on her own. She no longer put herself to bed or brought herself to the toilet. She stopped being able to talk, at least intelligibly. She submitted to the care of other people, some of whom were loving and generous. But when they did their best for her, getting her up and out, all she could do was sit in a room, in a wheelchair, look around, slump over, and fall asleep.
When I visit her now, I don’t expect much. She’s still here, but she’s really not, if you know what I mean.
When I walk into her room, I’m not sure she can see me. Sometimes, maybe, she hears me. She can squeeze my hand when I grasp hers. I can feel her breath, and when I lean over to kiss her, she might feel mine, possibly.
I just don’t know if she’s in pain. It doesn’t look like she is, but I can’t know for sure.
Strangely enough, it’s only in the years since she’s been succumbing to this illness that I have been able to heal myself. I was unhappy for most of my life. But now, I am finally happy, doing work that suits me, in a healthy relationship, and satisfied with my life. These are my best years so far.
I’m sad that she can’t see me now.
momsalzheimers 
Beth, what a coincidence that I was thinking about you last night at dinner (when talking to a friend whose mother is in the middle stages of dementia) and realizing I never replied here, and then to see your Now post this morning. All I can say is that I know your mother would be happy to know how well you are doing. Sending you and her my warmest wishes as you both traverse, separately and together, the most beautiful and painful parts of life. ❤
So beautifully written. I’m sending you my thoughts and prayers. I was my Mom’s demise from Alzheimer’s, so I do get it. I too worried that my Mom was suffering.
I pray that your Mom is not. I’m thrilled that you are happy.
Thank you for another poignant post, Beth. Your writing soothes even when the subject matter is prickly. It’s wonderful to hear you’re doing so well at this stage of life….and I’m happy to be witness to it in person. ❤
Oh Beth, this is such a wonderful story about love, sadness, self-healing and finally, your unmistakab
Oh Beth, I was so touched to see your post. My journey with my Mother’s dementia started in January of 2013. We went through everything you’ve gone through, but in a little over 4 years. My mom passed in March of 2017 when her body just stopped functioning.
My thoughts are with you, and I’m so happy to hear you are in such a good place and at peace. In her soul, I’ll bet your Mother knows. Hugs. ❤️
Wow, She is still going but not really here now. I am so happy to hear how successful your life is for you now. That is just so great. Thanks for writing this. It has been a long time. Fondly, Nancy
Beth,
I think of you often. When I saw the post I didn’t know what to expect. Having watched my mother disappear into Alzheimer’s, I have always related to your postings. Such a sad way to go. As I reached my 85th birthday in July, I continue to look at myself in the mirror on a daily basis to see if my mind is still working. So far so good.
The fact that you are enjoying your work, are in a healthy relationship and are happy gives me great joy. You are a lovely person and I enjoyed our brief overlap at Share.
Belssings,
Judy Manelis