Tender Moments

Today I silently stood in my dining room, unnoticed, while observing my sweet nine-year old daughter read a book to her grandma. Anna read the little board book with all the tenderness, patience and expression that one would use with a toddler. She pointed to the pictures and counted the animals. Then she placed the book gently on my mother's lap and took her hand, patted it and gently said, "I love you. Do you know that?" She smiled and kissed her hand then my sweet little girl started to stroke my mom's head and tell her how beautiful she is. I could not ask for a sweeter manifestation of love and tenderness, and it was all done in what Anna believed to be utter anonymity. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched the tender exchange between my daughter and my mother. Love freely given--all Anna received in exchange was an occasional smile. When I talked to her about the interaction later, she shyly smiled and replied, "That's what grandma used to do to me."

I have tried to look for the good that can come in this difficult situation and there have been quite a few good things emerge. One of my hopes has been that my children will come out of this experience better people. It hasn't always been easy on them. I have missed events and out of town trips with them because I had to stay home and care for my mom. They have helped me move her and feed her. They have waited as I changed her and dressed her. They have watched her thrash in seizures. They have felt the loss of their grandmother, and they have watched her change into a vacant person. But I believe they are learning patience and compassion. I hope they are learning the joy of service. 

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Today was a moment that I do not want to forget.  I was so pleased with my daughter who has come a long way from the day when she confessed to me that the changes in Grandma scared her. We talked later that day about some of the things she remembers about my mom from before the dementia. Anna reminisced about "grandma play dates" and the pajamas that my mom sewed for her. It is a struggle sometimes to keep the memories alive when the present shadows the past. I'm grateful that my kids have a few memories still of how my mom used to be.

My Children losing their Grandmother to Alzheimer's

There have been moments that scream louder than others that I am losing my mother and that my children are losing their grandmother.

Since my mom started to lose her speech early on in the disease, we often didn't know exactly what she was thinking. Shortly after my mom moved in with us, she looked at my second son and asked, "Now who are your parents? Where do you live?"  It floored all of us. Despite the decline that we had already witnessed, none of even questioned whether or not she knew who we were.Certainly, she hadn't gone that far, yet.  Although it shocked all of us, I think that it bothered my son that he was the one that she couldn't remember. It eventually moved to my third son, as well, and then to me.

Each of my children dealt with her differently.  My oldest, who happened to be the one that she remembered the longest, stopped engaging her much at all.  He had the most memories to lose, perhaps.  He had mowed her lawn for a couple of years. She had given him oboe lessons. He remembered her hiking and being active. Because he simply disengaged, I didn't realize the loss he was experiencing. I only clued in after reading an essay that he wrote about "something that was difficult in his life."  He candidly wrote about how hard it was to have his grandma move into our home and witness her decline.

My second son, the one that she forgot first, was gentle with her and made an effort to acknowledge her and to stop and talk to her.  One day I told him that it was a gift that he could still find ways to interact with her; some people are paralyzed into inaction when it comes to dealing with people in that kind of situation. He said, "Mom, it's hard for me, too. But I just make myself do it."

Son number three just didn't know what to say or do with her. Eventually, he has learned just to smile and nod his head. He is good about saying "hello" to her when he walks into the room.  He seems the least bothered by the situation. I wonder what he would say...I'll ask him.

My daughter who remembered fun play dates at Grandma's house became scared of my mom. It took a little training and coaching to help her feel comfortable around my mom. Now, (she's almost 9) after actively setting a goal to give Grandma a hug once a day, she likes to walk into the room and hug Grandma because it makes her smile. But the learning process is ongoing. Today, my daughter asked me, "Is it normal for Grandma to hold onto to my arm and not let go when I give her a hug." So a conversation opened up about how Grandma can't always control what her hands are doing.

And then there is my baby--currently, three years old.  He really doesn't know Grandma any other way.  He plays with her. He laughs with her. He fights with her. She is simply a part of his life. He is definitely the most comfortable around her--blessings of youth.