Issue link: https://read.dmtmag.com/i/216837
Dear Mom, You took my hand today and held it tight. ing the curves. You said nothing. I sat beside you. I stayed until you dropped my hand. I was afraid my words would break the spell. I said nothing. You held my hand today. Dear Mom, I don't want you to think that being here with you has been all sadness. Actually, it's been mostly joy. But sometimes, it's the sadness that's easier to write about. I don't know why. Dear Mom, into work mode. soothing music and saw that all the chores could wait. You are sleeping and the thought of your leaving. One morning, a while ago, I walked into your bedroom to check on you and tell you "good morning." You opened your eyes and said, "Have you come to see if I'm dead?" Your bluntness and lucidity stopped me in my tracks. I decided to be honest and said, "Yes." You breezily replied, "Nope—I'm still here," and went on with other conversation that made no sense. Just when I think I can't be surprised any more. Dear Mom, I stand you up and hold your arms to walk you for a bit of exercise every day. Lately I hum a tune. It reminds me of your stories about Dad, and how you waltzed together to the radio in the kitchen. I want you to have the things you remembered—now that you've forgotten. Dear Mom, As I watch you sleep this afternoon, I see a calm trustfulness in your face and rhythmic breathing. I have wrapped you up to keep you comfortable. You look at once very old and very young. Dear Mom, I want to thank you for the gift of words. When I was a little child, you read to me—stories and poetry. When I was old enough to read myself, you asked me to read to you. You'd stand at the sink washing dishes and I would read anything and everything. You told me over and over about the power of words. And now you've given me the power to say it. Goodbye. In April 2003, my mother died. It was the end of an 11-year journey with Alzheimer's disease. I had been her caregiver, and before then, her daughter and friend. I wrote these letters to her during the last two-and-a-half years of her life and the first year after her death. They were short out of necessity, and taught me that listening includes more than the spoken word. Memory loss doesn't have to mean the end of productive, meaningful living. At the Sebring Assisted Care Residence and Sebring Gardens Memory Care, we believe quality of life should always be a priority – despite any limitations. Make sure your winter is full of warmth and spirit with this Bucky knit beanie. Perfect for any Badger! Attentive Support. Compassionate Care. Life-Enriching Programs for Your Loved One. Contact Jane Roemer (608) 829-0603 or (608) 212-9340 jroemer@hwebberltd.com ZooZatz Bucky Beanie Locations on State Street, at West Towne Mall, Hilldale, HSLC & Janesville Mall 36 BRAVA MAGAZINE | DECEMBER 2013 SEBRING ASSISTED CARE COURTYARD HOMES CONDOMINIUMS BROOKLINE APARTMENT HOMES 7707 N. Brookline Drive, Madison | www.coventryvillagewi.com