Monday, November 10, 2008

Purple

This blog is purple in honor of my mother. Purple was her favorite color. She had a bumper sticker on her car when she was still driving that said, I Love Purple. Now she says she doesn't really have a favorite color anymore. The fact that she thought about the question when my daughter asked her and responded thoughtfully was part of the miracle night that the three of us spent together. Up until the last night Monnya and I were visiting, my Mom was very unresponsive. She had trouble staying awake and would nod off in the middle of a meal. I had resigned myself that she had reached the stage of Alzheimer's where she knew I was someone she knew but wasn't sure who I was. I had accepted that hanging out with her was an opportunity to be present with myself and grieve because she was rarely awake. The first afternoon I took a nap with her and had a good cry that was cleansing and helpful. The second day I read a story to her and she listened but wasn't able to respond. When Monnya and I arrived on the last night we accepted her to be in a similar unresponsive space.
We sat with her while she ate dinner. She was very clear that all she wanted was applesause and dessert. I tried to encourage her to eat the main course even though I could completely understand why she didn't want to eat it. The soggy gravy on white bread and runny chicken salad sandwich didn't look at all attractive to me either. She was firm in her refusal and when I honored that she began to calm down. She knew she didn't have to fight me. She began to see that Monnya and I saw her and valued her opinion. I can't explain how it happened that my Mom came back to be with us. We went to her room and hung out for several hours. We sang songs and Mom remembered the words. We read three books and she was much more with it in her responses. We played a game where each of us said something we were glad about and then sad about. My Mom participated and thoughtfully responded. She even remembered the meaning of some yiddish words that I thought were lost to me forever. It was as if she had come back so we could have this magic evening with the three of us. It was a gift of grace that I will always be grateful for. At one point Monnya was crying. Mom turned to her and sweetly and sincerely said, "Let me know if you need anything." That made both of us cry harder. She knew who we both were and was interested in our lives. I feel so blessed that Monnya was there with me to witness this heartopening event. My Mom, before Alzheimer's, was a vital, opinionated, caring person who could be extemely loving and also extremely critical. At one point Monnya had her foot up on the couch and Mom told her to move it off. Monnya told her she only had a sock on. My Mom looked at her directly and said, "I'm sorry" in such a sweetly sincere way. At the end of the evening I felt complete with my Mom. Even If I never see her lucid again, even if she doesn't recognize me at all the next time I visit, I will know that the three of us shared a conscious moment together that Monnya and I will always remember and treasure. In the parking lot we held each other and cried. As my daughter becomes more of an adult my mother becomes more of a child. Watching my mother regress and my daughter feed the other adults at my mothers Alzheimer's home I was struck with love for these two women that I am sandwiched between. I am the peanut butter between their two slices of bread. Tonight it feels like a good place to be. Where are you with the members of your family? How is that satisfying and unsatisfying?

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