Tell Me About It

Dear Mom,

I visited the nursing home where you are living your last days from Alzheimer's last night and sang Happy Valentine's Day to you.

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It's weird to see the face of my mother on a helpless person who cannot speak or move or eat or use the bathroom any more.  Who needs to be cared for like an infant. The way you cared for me so long ago. 

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I have taken pictures of you during your illness that looked pretty awful.   This one is cute, I think, and if you could see it you'd be proud of your beautiful grandchildren.  You look okay, not hideously swollen from steriods like you did six months ago.

I think you'd be okay with me posting this on the internet.  There is nothing to be ashamed of.  You didn't do anything wrong or bad, you just drew the unlucky card.

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I don't have anything terribly profound to say, but I wanted to write down a little miracle that happened a few weeks ago.  That's all we get anymore...little miracles.  Your Alzheimer's isn't going away, and so far my fibromyalgia isn't going away.  But who knows...

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I'm kind of glad you aren't around to see me sick.  At least fate grated us that gift.   

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Selfishly I kind of wish you were, but you would be so sad and worry so much.

Anyway, several weeks ago my sister visited you.  You haven't spoken in a year.  You barely open your mouth any more to eat or drink.  

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My sister spilled some water on you and while wiping it up she said, "Oh, Mom, I'm sorry, you're all wet."

And you replied, "Tell me about it."

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I wonder if those are the last words you will ever speak.  We aren't much for goopy sentimental stuff around this family, but if I had to get goopy, I'd say that those words are a good exit line.

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You always did want to hear all about me, and Dad, and Carol, and the various children and cats and dogs that moved in and out of our lives, and every time I hear something juicy, I wish you could be hear to gasp and giggle over it with me.  And look at me with that disapproving look but secretly enjoying the scandal, the more deliciously scandalous the better.

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 I wish I could tell you about it.

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But Happy Valentine's Day to the first person I saw look at me with eyes of love.  The person who cuddled me during daily hospital visits before adopting me and taking me home  oh those many years ago after I was born on February 9.

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Love ya ma.

Margaret Lorraine