Letting go of Mom

As I write I can see purple hyacinths peeking out of the ground outside of my window. I feel grateful for these little plants that come up every Spring and remind me of rebirth. They are little messengers of hope. I have been feeling sad and heavy-hearted since I returned from visiting my Mom. Although I enjoy being with her, it is difficult to experience her life as it is now. She lives in an Alzheimer's unit near my sister in New Mexico. From 1978 until two years ago she lived in Colorado Springs and I could see her regularly. My Mom was a teacher, an avid reader, and extremely dedicated to her Jewish community. She was politically liberal, very opinionated, and often quite critical. She could also be playful and silly and was fun to talk to. She assisted me in doing Laughter Yoga at her retirement home. I miss her.
The Mom I have now is a different person. This person is quieter and sweeter and searches to remember words when she speaks. She is warm and appreciative and only sometimes knows my name. She still knows her name. She gets anxious and scared and confused and sometimes slaps her caregivers. I just returned from spending a long weekend with her. We can have fun together. She still remembers the words to some simple songs if we sing them slowly. Singing unites the right and left side of the brain and seemed to soothe her. We sang with another resident who had a beautiful voice and remembered the words to some old songs way better than I did.
I took my Mom on a little outing to a park where we sat and watched children play on the playground. She doesn't get to see kids anymore and she really enjoyed it.
I think the hardest part was that she doesn't know how to wipe herself anymore. She doesn't remember what to do. Seeing her sit on the toilet not knowing what to do and wiping her, I thought about the full circle that is this human life. Once my Mom wiped me.
Tears are running down my cheeks for the Mom that I have lost. Even though I was sometimes afraid of her sharp tongue, she was my friend. In some ways I am grateful that I still have my mom alive and that I get to be with her. In this way I get to grieve slowly and prepare for her actual physical death. I can still see her smile and rest quietly with her. I can still look in her eyes and sometimes she is really there. We put our hands on each other's hearts and breathed love into each other. She said it was nice. My heart swelled with love for her. I could feel the blessing of the time we share together.
My sister supervises my Mom's care and does a great job. She takes my Mom to appoint- ments and handles her financial affairs. I am very grateful that my sister takes such good care of my mother. She wanted Mom to be close to her so she could spend more time with her. It's hard for me to have my Mom so far away and I feel guilty because I know it is challenging for my sister to be in charge of her care. I let her know often how much I appreciate all that she does.
There are 11 residents where my Mom lives and the caregivers have their hands full. One of the residents was running around in only his sweater and socks. Sometimes it helps to laugh. Mostly the people who work there care about my Mom and the food is fairly nutritious. My sister and I even shared in the lunch they had on Sunday. My Mom still loves dessert.
I appreciate being able to write about my feelings about my Mom. My heart feels lighter. Writing is so theraputic.Where are you in your relationship with your Mom? What is your learning about that relationship now? Would it be helpful to write about it?