My mom seems to be in late stages of dementia. My sisters and I are in high gear trying to prepare to move her to memory care (her worst nightmare). In the meantime, we're problem-solving what's not going well. An auto-feeder for the dog (despite Mom feeding the dog whatever's lying around anyway because she can't remember the feeder is feeding the dog). Unplugging the stove after she poured boiling water on her arms while preparing pasta. An auto-pill dispenser. We've called to start Meals-on-Wheels. Homecare will start soon. My sister will "work from home" from Mom's house 5 days a week.
I'm finding moments to grieve what once was. What she once was. What she once was to me.
She hates losing control. She as little to hold onto. Her friend comes to puzzle with her multiple times a week. I have her over once a week for dinner and card games with the grandkids.
I'm thinking about what furniture might move with her, and what needs to be offered to family. She has many pieces that are more tied to my dad's side of the family, and I want to make sure they have a chance to keep it in the family before we try to sell it or give it away.
The house has a new roof and otherwise may have to be sold as-is.
And for me? My love for my mother also feels as-is. I will never love her better. She won't ever love me better. And in fact, my existence fades ever more in her memory. She talks to me of her "adult daughters" and the bullying decisions that they keep making to complicate her life.
Oh, oh, so is life.
Oh, oh, so is life.
