The Long Goodbye Has Concluded

by 💙 Carly: Happy New Year

Rated: 18+ · Prose · Death · #2356706

Memories of Dementia's visit to our house.

My mother has just recently died. Yes, that is serious. And yes, I am sad, but we had been living with Dementia for some time. It has been a long goodbye.

Dementia. A visitor you do not welcome, but one that insists on pushing its way in whether you want it to or not. You are not prepared. No one ever is. It disrupts the balance of your lives for everyone it meets, not just the one it settles on.

At first it was annoyingly persistent. Dropping into conversation and thought patterns, tripping up the flow. This became a regular occurrence, though it was predictably unpredictable which made it all the more frustrating for my mother and for me. Repeated questions over and over within moments of each other. Patience lost.... and scattered among the ashes of a life.

I was angry. Guilt ravaged me.

My mother doused herself in wine to alleviate the bubbles in her brain, but they continued to bloom and pop with increasing irregularity. Some days seemed almost normal, then she'd step off into a delirium cliff and fall into a chasm with no bottom.

I followed her along her sundown moments, holding onto the metal merry-go-round like I did as an 80's kid. Dizzy and nauseous; waiting for the ride to slow, so I could get off. She'd walk on as it nothing was amiss and I'd be feeling the effects of her spinning for days afterward.

Memory swallowed these moments, leaving her blissfully at peace for another day or two before the ride would revive itself and send us spinning once again.

She became paranoid. She'd pack to go home. A paper bag of any item in her line of sight - a single shoe, pens, notebook, Depends, incontinence pad, pictures off the wall. Even the cat carrier was brought out. No amount of reassuring her she was already home helped.

What she really wanted was that place where her brain was settled and calm. Where things were normal and fine. She was lost and couldn't find her way back to that place.... and there was no way back to that place.

Slowly those things she found pleasure in drifted away. No more reading. No more crosswords. No more word searches. Television was hard to follow and sometimes she thought the shows were real. She would linger on the news channel or the weather station as if she could find some shelter there, but again, that was an illusion.

The only place she wanted to go out to were restaurants to drink or the liquor store to buy her way to a liquid lounge only she could be in. She'd drink to knock herself out - so not my mother. Then she'd fall asleep only to wake up in a puddle of urine. Or she'd stumble and fall. I learned it was better to leave her where she was and guide her when she was ready to make the transition to her bed.

The only thing getting a serious workout in our house was the washing machine and dryer.

I wanted dignity for my mother. I tired to give her that, but sometimes it was so hard. Dementia forced its way in and seemed to find fun it humiliating her. She did not want others to know. Not remembering had an element of kindness to it, in that she could not remember those upsetting moments.

Getting her to visit family was a challenge. If I did manage to get her over to my aunt's house, she followed me around like a lost puppy. I was her safe place, I guess. That was both a blessing and a curse as I was eventually not able to leave her for any length of time.

This made working difficult. On days she slept all day I could go to work, but if she was having a difficult day, I needed to be there for her. Trying to determine what day was which was almost impossible. A day might start out fine, then after a nap could turn dark and stormy. I'd be hard pressed to say how many supply teaching days I've had this year. I suspect it is under 30 days and it is March.

The long goodbye has finally concluded.

So now I am without my mother.

Dementia has gone to find another soul to plunder.

My mother has gone to a better place. One where the bubbles have finally stopped and her hands have become supple and movable again. She can knit to her hearts content. She is at peace. Wine can be enjoyed the way it was meant to be - sipped and savoured. She can read whatever she likes and follow the story line. She can walk unencumbered and dance with my stepfather under a starry sky. She can also watch over me and I know she will.

She was a good mother and I will miss her. She will always be with me... in my heart.

I love you momma.

word count = 836

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