On this day...

It's been a long while since I've visited this page. Well, at least, in the role of writer.

Each day on Facebook I have been reading the "On This Day" feature that, you guessed it, shares what I was doing on this day in the past 4 years that I've been writing this blog. More often than not it shares a link to this page. I read each post almost as if I am a new reader to the blog. I often don't remember the specific episode that spurred the entry, sometimes the memory is crystal clear.

The interesting part of it all is that while I feel the pain, stress, frustrations, and sometimes the humor of the situation, I no longer feel the anger. And I was so very, very angry. It is liberating to know that the anger is no longer consuming me. In fact, if someone were to ask me today to describe what we endured, words would fail me.

I remember being very young and asking my mom why women have more than one child when childbirth is so painful. Her answer was twofold. She said that the joy of a child for a lifetime far outweighs the pain of what is really just a brief moment of time. She then said that the Good Lord lessens the memory of pain until it seams less important. In other words, we heal.

I have a long way to go to be healed. Scratch that. I will never be completely healed. I believe there will always be scars that I worry at and pain that will, hopefully, diminish with time. But, for now I'm calling this a step in the right direction.

Oh, and if I continue with the childbirth analogy? Once is enough for me.

May they rest in peace...

After my last blog entry, a dear friend asked what was the weirdest thing that I found while cleaning/purging/screaming. I had some items that could be considered, but nothing that was the weirdest.

I now have another entry into the contest. I finally found a baggy of lids that I have been wondering about for years. They are the ones that Mom took off of every jar in the kitchen one year. I knew she hadn't thrown them away- that was apparently against her beliefs.

While it probably isn't the weirdest, it does bring me closure- and that's something those jars went to their graves without.

On a roll...

In the past 10 days we have taken 18 big black bags of trash out of this house and surrounding areas To be fair that includes every pillow and blanket that my mother ever owned in her entire life, at least it seems that way (and, yes, we donated what we could). Those take up a lot of trash bags. We have dragged 2 recliners, 1 couch, 1 love seat, 2 mattresses and 1 box spring to the curb to be hauled away. I have had 2 yard sales and taken the remains to Goodwill (another 8 bags of stuff). The scrubbing, the yanking, the lifting, the LAUNDRY!  Oh the laundry I've done. I washed everything that was going into the yard sale and everything that went to Goodwill, plus our own everyday laundry. And with all of that do you know what hurts the most?  My hands.  They are dry, cracked and just ache. I need to buy stock in Jergens.

PLEASE for the sake of your children, don't have umpteen collections of piggy banks, thimbles, boxes (Oh my, the boxes... wooden, plastic, card board, pottery, broken, missing parts, big, little, pretty, ugly, etc.), toys (including bags and bags of Happy Meal toys), copper, coffee mugs, books, etc.  And for the love of sanity do NOT keep things that you "might need some day"!

We're on a roll now, I tell ya!  On a ROLL!!

Layers of destruction...

Slowly, ever so slowly, I have been making my way through Mom's room and other stash worthy areas. Each day I seem to be reminded of the toll that Alzheimer's has on a person's life, not just social and health tolls, but the things that we find comfort in caring for while they are in our trust.

Now, Mom was never considered a great housekeeper, not even a good one.  If we came home and the house was neater than usual our first question was, "Who's coming over?"  She never seemed to care that most of our furniture were cast offs from friends and family.  None of that was important. There were a few things though that she cherished and treated well.  Her bedroom set fell into that category.  My parents bought that set long before I was born and Mom loved it. I learned how to care for wood furniture through her and those  pieces.  Heaven help the child who set a cup or a plate on that furniture.  She had thick protective glass pieces on the tops of each one.

Which makes the finally digging through the piles of stuff of the last 10 years of hoarding to the furniture beneath all the more heartbreaking.  This "is" her vanity.

While I was never a fan of the style, it was still a beautiful piece of furniture. The high boy and night stand that remain of the set are in slightly better condition.  She would be crushed to see what she did while under control of the disease.

To me, this represents all that Alzheimer's has done to my family over the course of its destruction.  It took a family and destroyed layers to the point that they can't be fixed.  While other parts are damaged but salvageable, standing tall and strong.  Unlike this vanity, my family and I have the gifts of hope, forgiveness and love.  I believe we will be just fine.  The furniture?  Not so much.

I am getting there...

Our journey through Alzheimer's is over.  The ramifications of the experience will last for years.

Here's one that I'm working through:

Mom became so agitated with the slightest activities around the house that I let a lot of things go in the last 2 years of Mom's illness.  We rarely cooked.  We did little cleaning besides what was absolutely necessary for health reasons. We didn't decorate for holidays.  If something broke, we found a way to make it work with minimal disruption to Mom.  Needless to say, the house is a mess.

It was only 6 months ago that I chose to place Mom in a facility that could care for her better than I could.  I thought, "Wow!  I can do things again. I can finally get the house put back together." Unfortunately, these energetic thoughts were followed with an unbelievable sense of hopelessness and apathy.  I just didn't care.  I don't know if I believed that she was going to be sent home again (it entered my mind) or whether I just needed the time to lick my wounds and heal a bit.

Whatever the reason, since Mom's passing, I have been filled with a sense of urgency and energy to get things done.  I need to get up and move.  I need to clean, fix, and purge.  I need to work.  And I have been.  The house is still torn up, it always looks worse before it can look better.  But, I am getting there.

As I said, I will be working through the repercussions of this journey for a long time.  It feels good to take a first step back to my life.

No tears...

It didn't end the way I imagined.

The first call from hospice letting me know that Mom's condition was deteriorating rapidly hit me hard.  I think part of my brain actually considered her "outliving us all".  Unrealistic, I know.  But, it was something that we said, and probably believed, during the stressful times.  Physically, she was strong and healthy for a woman in her 80s.  The Alzheimer's had progressed slowly.  So very slowly. There was no reason to think it wouldn't continue in the same way. I knew that she would be there on my next visit, yelling that she was hungry.

But, she's gone.  She's been gone almost two weeks.  I am actually happy that she is gone.  I am finding that most people are shocked by that.  I shed many tears for my mother over the years. I grieved for her each day that I was forced to watch her slow and cruel death. My children and I said our goodbyes to her many years ago.  She was spared the final suffering that many Alzheimer's victims are forced to endure.

So, no, I have no tears for my mother's passing.  I do have a sense of relief and an overwhelming feeling of gratitude for her final and glorious peace.  I know where she is and, more importantly, she does, too.  She is whole.

Alzheimer's did not win.

Eternal peace did.

Soon...

For so very long things have moved so very slowly.  Mom's journey seemed to take forever. I saw the early signs almost 15 years ago. Now it is all just moving so unexpectedly fast.  Hospice called yesterday to prepare us for what is coming. After all of these years you'd think that I would be ready.
I'm not.  It hit me hard.  I'm getting through this horrible waiting by remembering what I have spent countless hours praying and wishing for:  Her peace.  I am mentally happy that she is about to go home to a peace that we cannot comprehend.  But, it's my mom and I am going miss her and feel a huge whole with her passing.

Surprisingly, this grief that I feel is almost comforting.  I thought I would feel little but relief that my obligations are through.  It's wonderful to know that some compassion remains that was not stolen by the cowardly thief that is Alzheimer's.