Watching her go

As we travel down this uncharted path of dementia I unpack the stories that fill our days, each detail lingering in a frightening aspect to the life we are struggling to comprehend.  With a fitful personality and the unending mood swings I witness her competence vanishing rapidly before me.

Approaching the next phase in this journey and transition to the nursing home has increased her fear precipitously and my heart continues to break for the confusion she faces each day.

I had hoped when this day arrived she would be able to participate in the activities that surrounded her and make new friends along the way. Yet, at this stage her only friend is fear, exaggerating the anxiety in feverish bouts that drain me as I misstep through this decline with her.

Her words quietly dissolve to a mumble and the illness quickly claims her mind with panic as the anger proliferates the scene, poisoning the memories of long ago I fight to separate the person from this illness when these spells of anger arise.

In her calmer moments we sit together rocking on the porch, her smile peaceful as she observes nature with pure delight. Guilt creeps in as I plan for her future, knowing the approaching changes that she is unaware of leaves the sting of betrayal.

Glancing across the porch my eyes fill with tears as I excavate back to when it all fell apart? The idyllic childhood she provided now plummeting in a downward spiral of tragedy and the broken debris left scattered about abandoning any signs of normalcy.

Tragedy is never chosen and death is often thrust upon you, providing little space for goodbye. The lingering betrayal of dementia is one that is witnessed with time slowly progressing the devastation as they gradually slip away, a husk of their former selves.

The gentle person that was once my mother comes and goes. The range of each outburst lengthens as her confusion escalates, her words cruel, as she slices through me in a frightened fit of rage.

Unable to control these emotions her only way out is to flee, even from a moving vehicle. Trembling I attempt to unlock my phone with my only free hand to call for help. Her arm bleeds as she struggles from my grip while I wrangle the car away from all the traffic and into a parking lot.

Her screams alert all who surround us and those passing by come to help although unsure of who they are there to assist? Her rage spews vicious words into the air, cutting me with their force as I beg for peace.

Holding onto her so she cannot hurt herself she scratches and kicks, exhausting us both with her screams until I can no longer hold on as help arrives and I can breathe again.

Staring upwards I pray for help to keep going, a rapid decline in this savage disease springs bouts of pity that wash over me as fresh tears sting my face. Rinsing away the despair I attempt to accept this story that is drowning her life and taking me along.

Finally, I know what I must do to escape this torment, finding someone to watch her I lace up my shoes and head out for a run, the pavement brings a sense of calm and the miles provide a trans like cleanse, clearing the sadness while allowing the light back in as I sort through all the decisions to be made.

Other days a glass of wine or laughter with friends is the elixir required to reset my heart to go back in. Finding space for me allows the brightness back in, my tribe appears, gathering when I need them, offering a solace that soothes my soul.

My spouse braces me with grace and compassion and my children wrap their arms around me as their own strain of tears begin to fall.

These blessings arrive in countless ways with family and friends that lift me up, hold my hand and guide me through this darkness as we prepare for the future.

Through all this sadness I am blessed, though I struggle to find grace. Searching through it all I can see the gratitude I must embrace. The gifts of friendship that bloom within my heart, the love from my family gathering near all shining a beacon of light to lift me up and guide me down this dim lit path.