Saturday, May 05, 2018


My mom.

I always felt like my mom was an old lady, even when she was in her 30's.  Dad was always the fun loving goofball that everyone gravitated towards, but I mostly remember mom as the serious one. Not in a bad way, as she was the one that was always available to listen to the problems of an awkward 13 year old trying to transition to an awkward high schooler. Mom knew how to have fun too, but she could not possibly compete with dad in that arena.  Mom was happy to be the rock of the house. The support system who prepared meals, washed clothes, cleaned up after an awkward 13 year old, and ran every unseen aspect of the house that needed running.

Mom is very different today. On some days she recalls events that happened 50 years ago with remarkable clarity. Some days she can't remember my name. My mom has alzheimer's. Her health has deteriorated quickly and we have had to sort her stuff to assist in the process of downsizing their living quarters. I'm viewing old photos of her from her younger days that I've never seen before. I easily reconize the loving face, but there's another dimension that I had not seen. Perhaps it's the face of a happy, carefree woman in her prime that has not yet experienced her first child. I recognize the love in her eyes, but there's a special lightness that is new to me. This is the puzzle piece that I knew had to exist somewhere, but for some reason was hidden from me.  This photo is a recreation of one I found while sorting out her things. I don't know why it was hidden for so long. Mom was a beautiful and stylish woman in the 60's.

Someday we will need to assist mom through her final transition and I will be there to listen to her speak of things that may or may not have happened, to help her remember my name, and to love her with everything that is within me.

Follow Us @soratemplates