This is my first post for a while. I started this blog to record my thoughts as Mum moved towards her new smaller world. What mattered most to me and to my sister at that point was Mum’s safety. Living alone in our old family home made her scared and vulnerable. Now she’s safe and comfortable in a care home which does what it promises to – it cares.
So, blog job done. And yet it isn’t for me. Recording my thoughts has been a cathartic experience and I’m not ready to stop just yet. For, while I can read about, understand and even accept the various causes of dementia, I can’t get my head around “it”. I’ve known and loved Mum for 47 years. When I go to see her today, she still looks like my Mum, she still sounds like my Mum and yet in many ways, we’re becoming strangers to one another. The common ground we share seems to shrink visit by restless visit.
How can someone who has been part of so many of the happiest memories of those 47 years seem so remote? Oh, you can point me back to the science but that isn’t enough for me. I mentioned two family holidays to Mum on my most recent visit – rich and shared experiences full of laughter in Trinidad and Tuscany – and Mum’s response was a brief nod. The nod which says: “I think I should know what you’re talking about but…”. Less than a year ago, her eyes would have lit up at the mention of either trip. Now, she just nods. I know why she nods but it still breaks my heart.