12 months ago this morning came the ‘phone call. Mum’s dementia story was over. Her doctor told us, as the final decline set in, that it could be months. We knew better. Mum had let go. The end was fairly swift, but there was no pleasure in proving medical opinion wrong.
Strangely, or perhaps not, I miss the pre-dementia Mum now more than I did during the decade in which that pernicious disease pulled her away from us. It’s as if, in the last year, we have been freed to remember Mum as she was. As she appears in the photographs above – her smile which lit up the room.
I still talk about Mum a lot. Recently, I spoke at an event on behalf of the Alzheimer’s Society and Mum smiled down at the audience from the screen. We shared stories of people we’d loved and lost. Every story was different but all had a shared theme.
A dear friend of Mum and Dad sent us a card this week. Pat visited Mum two days before she died and conducted the service in which we celebrated her life a couple of weeks later. She has been a wonderful support and is a part of our lives.
Today is a day to remember the good times. To raise a glass in Mum’s memory (not too much dear, I’ll be tiddly) and to be thankful. Dementia took her but, the memories, the smiles, the love, endure.