It's a strange and confusing thing to grieve someone who is still living. I guess that is why it is aptly called ambiguous grief.
It’s a strange and confusing thing to grieve someone who is still living.
I guess that is why it is aptly called ambiguous grief.
My Mom is alive but not in the true sense of the word. She is here physically, but everything else that made her her is gone.
Alzheimer’s stole her personality, her memory, her words, and her humanity. It stripped everything she once was and left us with a shell of that person.
The person who provided unconditional love and support. The person I would always turn to for guidance. The person who was a tried and true presence throughout my life.
She still walks. She still eats and drinks (now with the help and encouragement of aides). She still sleeps. She still looks like herself (to some degree). But she can’t converse or engage in activities with the depth, focus, and intention of a human being.
And I am constantly reminded of this truth when I visit her in Memory Care.
When I am with her, I miss her. Those who have suffered such loss will understand what I am talking about.
My Mom died many years ago and yet she still lives. A phrase that is hard to write and hard to digest. A strange and cruel reality I will never fully understand.
Commenti