Tag Archives: Mom

Healing

For so many reasons, I haven’t written this blog in a long time. For one thing, I’m writing a book about my mom and me, and when I have time to write, I write that. For another thing, as my … Continue reading

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Boxing Day

I walk down the hallway toward my mom, who is leaning against her walker with her friends surrounding her. They notice me and wave as I approach. She sees me, but she doesn’t wave, and when I come up alongside … Continue reading

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Coloring

My mom was such a simple person — on the outside. She never lied. Or cheated. Or stole. Or smoke or drank, for that matter. She believed in God and prayed, and she loved her children. She was nice and … Continue reading

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Birthday Card

“I have the best mother in the whole world,” read my mom. She was reading the card I had given her for her birthday. She didn’t know it was her birthday — not the first time I told her, or the … Continue reading

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Sofia

“Your mommy… she no belong here,” says Sofia,* an independent aide who cares for a couple of people on my mom’s unit at the Hebrew Home. She wants me to move my mom to another unit for people in earlier … Continue reading

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The First Time

“You’ve never been here before!” my mom exclaims as we head down the hallway of the dementia unit where she lives. She’s talking like she’s excited to show me the place for the first time (or more likely, thrilled to … Continue reading

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Mother’s Day

When I arrived at the Hebrew Home for a visit on Mother’s Day, my mom was sitting alone at her table, hunched over and staring downward, like she was reading a book perched in her lap. She looked up as … Continue reading

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Interconnectedness

“Let me ask you a question,” my mom’s boyfriend, “Kenneth,” says. “Does that tell you that is nearly basically one of the few things… that is the place to go? Because I can get the jumps on this thing. Is … Continue reading

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The things she’s forgotten

How to tell time. What she had for dinner. The house she lived in for thirty-four years, where she raised her children. The names of her grandchildren … or even that she has grandchildren. Whether it’s morning or night.                        … Continue reading

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An old man, his horse, and my mom

There’s a parable about an old man whose horse runs away. “What a terrible thing,” the village people say. “That’s life,” says the old man. The horse returns and brings with it three mares. “What a wonderful thing,” the village … Continue reading

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