remembering

waterloo-art-show-031.jpgthe past two weeks have made me remember who mom was.

dropping by her house after my morning run, she’d be standing there, smiling at me as i unwrapped my snowy layers. then she’d pit-patter away to make me a ‘hot cuppa’ and we’d sit and chat.

it was lovely. like i had my ‘old’ mother back with me. since my arrival last may, i haven’t seen her this way… it made me miss who she used to be, before It came.

a couple of days ago, I saw It return … It came in baby steps. she wasn’t her usual perky self; i put her to bed — 20 minutes later she bounded out and laughing, came to where i was typing on the computer. “oh good, you’re still here!” she said with her twinkly smile, a little unstable on her feet. i worried — why wasn’t she sleeping? i got her some apple slices and tea, then she went back to sleep. supposedly. 20 minutes after that, she raced into the room again, this time holding her glasses’ case. “watcha doing mom?” i asked, trying to be casual, but sensing Its presence. she just laughed, sat on the couch, smiling. i set up a movie for her. as she sat there staring at the screen, It fully entered the room and her body, rendering her ‘fuzzy’ or ‘in-cognito’ for the next few days.

yesterday i decorated my parents home with christmas supplies we’ve collected over the years; it was all i could do to keep from crying. upstairs my mom was stretched out on her bed, unable to speak or walk, and here were boxes of who she used to be… boxes of the woman i remembered during those two blessed weeks of ‘normalcy.’

i thank God for those two weeks, for the advice she gave and the hot cuppas she made. but in some ways it’s harder now, watching It ravaging her mind.

before, i’d forced myself to accept this as who she was. but now i know she’s somewhere inside, fighting against the force which is rendering her helpless.

i’ll never forget what she told me this past wednesday after coffee break at church… she was having a ‘sad’ day. i asked her what was wrong. looking at me out of blue depths she said, “emily, it’s just taking a so much longer for me to get better than i’d thought.”

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4 Comments

  1. Annie said,

    December 5, 2007 at 2:23 pm

    “The difference between shallow happiness and a deep, sustaining joy is sorrow. Happiness lives where sorrow is not. When sorrow arrives, happiness dies. It can’t stand pain. Joy, on the other hand, rises from sorrow and therefore can withstand all grief. Joy, by the grace of God, is the transfiguration of suffering into endurance, and of endurance into character, and of character into hope–and the hope that has become our joy does not (as happiness must for those who depend upon it) disappoint us.” -Author Walter Wangerin Jr.

    Emily, may you have deep and sustaining joy, which does not disappoint. šŸ™‚

    Thinking of you, and your mom, as she was, and is, and ever will be in the Lord. Love, Annie

  2. abbagirl74 said,

    December 5, 2007 at 5:10 pm

    oh em.

    my heart goes out to you. i couldn’t imagine the pain. you are such a strong woman. you and your family are always in my thoughts. i will be praying for you.

  3. Teneale said,

    December 7, 2007 at 9:25 pm

    Hey girl. You have been on my mind a lot lately. I just want you to know that we are praying for you. I wish I could see you and walk down the path at our farm and have a heart to heart. I miss you. I love you hon and deeply admire your strength and faith. I too have been forced to accept a “new” way for someone to be…I know its not the same, but I have a glimpse at your pain and it tears my heart. Hugs and kisses.

  4. Dave said,

    December 10, 2007 at 10:42 pm

    Would never compare my situation to yours but I think I can relate a little. My father is going through some issues with his ability to reason and remember. The pain that must be going through you must be almost unbearable. I hope and pray that all goes well in you and your mother’s life. All the best and good luck.


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