Daughter of Another Mother

On December 8, 2017, I lost my mom. She died of Alzheimer’s. I am 48 and a mother of 4 myself. In a sense, I don’t still need a mother. In another sense, and probably the only one that counts, I will always need my mother. I will always want to call her on the first day of school or when a kid gets his driver’s license or gets a part in a play with more than 3 words. I will always be grateful for the things she gave me.

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Lost and Found

Today began the last 9 weeks of the school year for my kids. The spring season of every school year seems to bring with it a mix of ill-fitting pants, stomachaches, and nightmares. It’s stressful. And because I didn’t live my life right to this point, I’m in at least 2 different grades right now. I won’t tell you which grades or how it’s going. You already know.

I’m losing sleep.

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Where am I and where are you?

When my mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in August 2015, I felt the ground shift underneath me. No one in my family had ever had any form of dementia. We had no experience or wisdom to draw from. There was a period of shock and denial as we watched the disease pulling her along. I stayed in that state longer than I wish I had. I wish I had been able to digest it quicker, accept it sooner, and embrace it for what it was. Embrace her for who she was becoming.

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