This is a photo of my Mom, taken about two years ago when she was 73. When I was younger, she loved having her photo taken. Mom was one of the biggest hams I’ve ever known. She would pose, smile, and almost shudder with joy of having a moment in time preserved on film.
In this photo, you can see that there isn’t any joy. In fact, there isn’t much emotion or recognition in her eyes at all. Mom has Alzheimer’s Disease. She no longer remembers who I am, so when I snapped this picture, it had no significance for her at all.
Mom was completely devoted to her family; so proud of her children and grandchildren and so in love with her husband of nearly 50 years. Alzheimer’s Disease has killed all the cells in her brain that house all of those memories. On this Mother’s Day, I hope you’ll read a little bit about my Mom, and then choose to give toward the research trying to solve the mystery of this disease.
Mom and Dad were both devout Lutherans; their World War II German upbringing kept them on the conservative side of the religion. Mom taught Sunday School for over twenty years, was a member of the Ladies Auxiliary and the Altar Guild for even more years. Life revolved around the church.
Mom was the type of hostess who brought out the good china for company and always served an assortment of desserts on beautiful cut glass and crystal platters from her native land. She had a collection of antique, fine china coffee cups and plates that made even store bought coffee cake seem elegant. Mom made sure that there was always fresh coffee and plenty of food for guests.
As grandchildren were added to the family, Mom learned all the Sesame Street songs, but still mixed in “This Little Gospel Light of Mine” and “Away in A Manger” to playground sing-alongs. Nothing would make Mom and Dad happier than the grandchildren coming to visit and swimming in their backyard pool. They loved all the children in the family – on my in-law side, as well. Everyone was welcome, all the time.
Mom is still living and appears to be fairly healthy, physically. However, she can no longer feed herself, wash and dress herself, handle toilet duties on her own, or carry on any conversation. Last time I visited with her, she just in her chair, staring off in to space. Even when I put myself directly in her line of sight, she seemed to look right through me, as if I wasn’t even there. Our annual visits are short and extraordinarily sad for me.
Alzheimer’s Disease robbed Mom of grandchildren’s weddings, college graduations and an upcoming high school graduation. More importantly, this disease robbed the grandchildren of sharing all of these experiences with their grandmother, or “Oma,” as they call her. She couldn’t reminisce about her happy life with Dad on the occasion of what would have been their 50th wedding anniversary. Mom couldn’t help us through Dad’s death and she can’t share any family memories with us.
I can’t call Mom and tell her about the business my daughter started, or that my son has decided to pursue his Master’s. She can’t read any of my writing. Mom doesn’t know that my husband retired and that we now work together. Mom doesn’t know that one of my German cousins and I have connected across continents through Facebook. I couldn’t call Mom for support as I was put on a three month treatment plan to ensure that all pre-cancerous cells were removed during surgery earlier this year. I can’t call Mom and say, “Happy Mother’s Day!”
Of course, life goes on for all of us. Because of Alzheimer’s Disease, the events of our great life cannot be shared with Mom. Today, my children are hosting a Mother’s Day brunch for me, and I am very lucky to share this day with them. For the first time in many years, we all live in the same area. Across the country, Mom will be sitting in her wheelchair, lost in her own vacant world, sharing the day only with other victim’s of this cruel disease.
On this Mother’s Day, consider donating to The Alzheimer’s Association. Click HERE and help save a Mom’s memories.
