Mother, Alzheimers, and Continuity
I contend that my mother was always still there,
despite the washed-out roads,
despite the downed power lines,
of Alzheimer’s subtractions,
which would dig a chasm
between her and the rest of the world,
we tend to feel that we must be in touch,
that who each of us is needs the other
to know us in the moment for each of us to exist,
and I feel that is not true,
each year disempowered Mother,
each day, each turn of the wheel,
disempowered Mother,
yet I still saw her, knew her, celebrated her,
despite how her body shrank,
despite how her mind could not find the paths out to us,
despite how she could not see us
on the paths we ventured toward her,
during that time, I chronicled the wholeness
of the mother, of the grandmother,
of the one who still loved all she could know,
despite it all, I felt a continuity of self
a self who sloughed off the bindings
which came to her throughout her life,
but the bindings did not define her,
words and actions were no longer
within her repertoire,
her soul was ready,
her goodness and love returned
to the Source.
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