Two Years Later

After 2 years, I finally get to see my mum.

Her dementia is more dominant now. I nearly said worse, and it’s easy to think of it as bad, that it’s taken something from her, from all of us. Some days that loss seems very real, more so for the family that are with her every day.

When I last saw her she was occasionally forgetful, occasionally confused. Diagnosed but in the early stages. Now most memories aren’t available to her, most of the time. Not gone, because occasionally they resurface and there’s recognition.

But she still smiles and laughs. Not always, but as much as most of us.

I can’t help feeling sad for the change sometimes, but time and the changes with age are always hard. Unrelenting. But some of the sadness is better replaced by enjoying who she still is, and trying to be there present with her, in her world as it seems to her on any given day. And be glad that my UK family are here with her as daily company, love and support.

She’s dependent now in a way that most of us fear. But maybe there’s a lesson there, that maybe we could allow ourselves to be more dependent, more conscious of our weaknesses, and that maybe there’s not so much to fear.