Oh my gosh, I did not expect that ending. I am so glad things are so much better for you and your Mother. I hope that you feel better in years to come about the whole experience of Mother/Daughter. It's complicated, and I appreciate what you have shared here. You have tremendous strength.
2
You can try to understand and forgive, but you never forget. That is the lesson I learned after my mother's death.
2
Extraordinary. Sweet. Painful. Kind. Loving.
Brutal. My eyes tear, and a slow moving fear takes hold: it is early this morning as I am reading, taking in the writer's mother's condition, and her daughter's love, and this reader having more than three quarters of a century age, I ask what is in your future. 'Your future is now' was/is the promise of youth- those not afflicted by drugs- what is/will be the future for dementia? A cure? Miraculous rescue? Thank you NYT.
2
Lisa,
As I was reading your post I thought about how all those former years of torment with your mother turned out to have a silver lining...one where she became civil toward you and even said she loved you! The brain is so complex, isn't it? We grab those moments of lucidity especially when it's something as loving as "I love you too." You are a wonderful daughter, never forget that. Caregiving is not a glam job, it's grueling and exhausting,but it's also rewarding. God Bless you for all you are doing to be with your mom.
4
Helped me understand my Friend’s (and her sister’s) dedication to their Mother who is demanding, Depressed, bipolar suffering from dementia and Alzheimer with tantrums and more. I asked my friend why they aren’t taking their Mom to a wonderful nursing home nearby and she told me “this is what we are giving back”. And this Mother was not the nicest Mom. This article, which I forwarded to my friend, has a beautiful grasp on the love that binds us.
5
All I can say is thank you!
4
I have personally experienced end of life dementia in my immediate family, and while it's a terrible thing to say, accelerating nature's course could sometimes be the best way out for all concerned, the patient, who really "died" when mental faculties faded beyond a point, and the family who provide care or funding for it. But, as always, an industry has grown up which profits from the extended physical survival of a "dead" patient and emotionally blackmails society to ensure it.
5
I can't imagine any universe where my mother would be happy with her present state. it breaks me to look at her.
2
I cared for my parent who had Alzheimer's for several years at home. They are not "dead" at all but they have just shifted. I was lucky in that they still knew me and could converse on some level. Just because their mental faculties have diminished does not mean that they can't give or experience joy. Many medical workers exhibit the same view that you have - that death should be accelerated. They give you plenty of ways to kill off your parent - suggesting hospice early on and telling you to not give them antibiotics for pneumonia, etc. Each situation is unique. We all have different ways of determining "quality of life" which is why detailed directives written while we are still coherent, are so important.
1
Your essay made me cry. Forgiveness is probably more for us than it is for our transgressors. You won't have any regrets.
9
This essay really touched me and reminded me of how my relationship with Mom changed over the years as she declined. It always amazed me when she said she was grateful to me for taking care of her – even while she was so angry about all that was happening to her. Ms. Solod’s description of what happened at the end of her last visit with her mother was like when, shortly before Mom died, she reached up to stroke my cheek when I was crying. And like when, toward the end of her life, she’d stroke my hair if I laid my head in her lap. In many ways she became more loving to me as she progressed with her dementia – of course, those moments happened in the midst of times when she’d yell or slap my face in anger about having to do something she didn’t want to do (take meds, shower, be required to have someone walk with her so she wouldn’t wander off) or tell me I was “just dumping her” when I had to move her to the secure Alzheimer’s facility. What a roller coaster of emotions, but what an incredibly personal experience to have had with her.
2
I run a Caregiver Support group. So many of the women in the group, and me, are living in this powerful and confusing relationship with their mothers.
Thanks to the author for putting it in to words.
The good news, is that those of us who have always wished to be able to love our mothers the way they would have wanted to be loved if only they were not so flawed, are now able to do it, and feel better about ourselves in the process.
6
So absolutely true. Thanks, Paula.
Lisa,
This resonated with me on so many levels. My grandmother battled Alzheimer's Disease for 12 long years and lived with us for 10 of those years. After the brutality of this darkness had ravaged her mind and body, she finally found peace and succumbed to its power on my 18th birthday on July 3, 1993. And - like you, I've wrestled my own demons in my relationship with mother. Although she doesn't have Alzheimer's like grandmother did (she's very much cogent and physically healthy), it's been a journey fraught with much pain and anger for both of us in our mother-daughter dynamic. Your beautiful and poignant piece was something I needed to read. Thank you for being brave enough to share your story. I see you and am holding your hand.
5
Profound and similar to my experience with my own mother. I kid her by saying "Mom, you told me to eat my veggies when I was a kid, now it's my turn to tell you." She still has enough 'presence' to get the joke and the irony.
2
An uplifting read for me. Many of these details sound familiar. My mom did not verbally abuse me or my older siblings - but her longtime alcoholism led to many years of neglect when we were young. I enjoyed my relationship with her as an adult, but I sadly mistook her early stages of illness for excessive neediness and was often annoyed with her. After the diagnosis, I fixated on how unfair it was that I would have to take care of her even though she didn't do a great job of caring for me. Writing, and my own aging, turned it all around. I have blogged about Mom since 2009 (she died in Oct 2015), and that regular reflection on the time we spent together enabled me to rethink my entire life - and hers. It helped that what I called her "default setting" with Alzheimer's freed her from her own depression and anxiety. She forgot that we were a family that rarely said "I love you," so we were very affectionate with each other - good medicine for both of us. She also did very well in assisted living and a wonderful Alzheimer's nursing home, so my burden was significantly reduced. Mom was terribly unlucky to live for so long in this compromised state. I, on the other hand, feel lucky that I was the one to see her through her final years, and fortunate that I could find a way to get to this emotional place to forgive her ... and myself. Wishing you the best.
8
To me, it would be an exquisitely lacerating insult to be told, "You know, you'd be a nice person if you just lost your mind." I have heard adult children express how much easier their difficult parent is to deal with once dementia sets in, but there still seems to be a bit of Stockholm syndrome involved. Or maybe it's a way to grieve over the parent's lifetime, self-inflicted squandering of potential achievement and happiness.
1
My question is why? This woman seems to have ruined your life and you continue the process in your guilty reaction to her in her Dementia. If she were not demented your mother would most likely continue to punish you. Time for a reassessment of what is really going on in your reaction.
Simplistic. A what if. I learned long ago to let her insults roll off. That isn't the issue. The issue is recognizing her helplessness and responding to it.
16
What a beautiful piece. Yes, the decline of a parent is awful to watch. As the children we compel ourselves to rise out of the pain and hurt we experienced at this parent's hands, mouth, hard heart and general cruelty. My mother was cruel; she enjoyed hurting us on all levels, reducing us to tears. She suffered from dementia and died in a nursing home. My brothers, sister and I stayed at her bedside determined to have her not die alone. We owed ourselves the chance to love her in death as she never allowed us to love her in life. We did her nails, washed her hands, applied lotion and combed her wild woman hair. We stroked her arms and let her know it was okay to go. The sharing of the experience of her dying and our giving strengthened our sibling bond. We remain thankful to this day for the opportunity presented us to rise above the pain in our hearts and see her off with love and dignity. For me, being able to treat her with love and dignity allowed me to leave all my pain at her bedside. I walked away a free daughter. I will always be grateful for that gift.
15
This article touched me to the bone. Your mother mirrors my mother in many ways, the childhood & early adulthood verbal abuse, the bitter anger earlier in her life followed by inexplicable kindness.
People often talk to me about how terrible the loss of my mother's memory must be, but only a very few people understand what it is to have a mother who screams in the shower & scratches & harms & swears horribly at well meaning nursing home staff members. As family members of Alzheimer's patient's it's not really acceptable to discuss these things in public. Only with trusted friends & family.
As daughters, we are expected to love our mothers unconditionally, but this can sometimes be very hard. I understand what a conflicted gift it is to finally be able to love your mother again when she is kind to you after so many years of emotional neglect. Thank you so much for this article.
4
As Alzheimers ate my mother, she went through the running away stage, the taking off her clothes stage, the angry ranting stage, the flailing arms constantly stage. She was unapproachable and a mystery to help. But, as she became more lost, she lost her tendency to be judgmental and became sweet and loving towards me even as I faded out of her mind. It was the time I felt the most connected to her. Thank you for sharing your story.
9
Well, okay, if you like it, I guess. Spend the money as you see fit. Seems like it would be better spent going to the Food Bank or even the Red Cross.
Certainly it's not my place to say you're doing this wrong. But many of us feel that the alternative is better, much better. I plan to Exit early, while I still have the ability, mobility, and independence. We're not afraid of being dead; we're afraid of living like that, as you describe. And we DO have to speak up.
The people who want to keep us (all) alive until the end are doctors, pharma, care homes, nursing homes, hospitals and (for some reason) many churches.
2
Dear One, my mother never made a plan to exit so we carry on. I don't wish to give more money to charity, I wish to go see her and other family and do my Biblical duty. I have my own exit plan but that's not the point here. She is.
3
At one time I would have agreed with you, but as I watched my son succumb to cancer, I saw his resolve to exit on his own terms turn into ongoing compromises as each day brought a measure of something good and something bad and he remained curious to see how it would all turn out until the end. I also don't underestimate the value to both in the end dance.
1
Oh, and the insurance companies!
Thank you for this tender story. I travel every two months to see my 73 year old mom in a memory care facility in Florida. I hope that with time, my memories of the person she was replace the person she is. The visits are intense, but we have fallen into a rhythm of eating at a local deli where she enjoys Matzo ball soup. I do not know if she recognizes me but she smiles in response to my smiles and I feel connected. My visits likely provide me with much more comfort than they do her.
Thank you again.
3
Thank you for this thoughtful piece. I can relate to much of your experience. A turning point for me in determining, as an only child, that I would step up and take responsibility for my dementia-affected mother’s care, was to ask myself, “Regardless of what sort of mother my mother has been, what sort of daughter do I want to be?” The answer made the path much clearer and ultimately helped me find my way to sharing a loving bond with my mother before she died.
10
Apparently, Lisa, that short story you wrote when you were 22 wasn't "as good as you will ever get."
32
I am grateful to read all the comments here and the article that started this dialogue. I have had such deep anger towards my mother that I find it difficult to make eye contact with her. I detest her touch. The only way to reconcile this would have been to talk but that was never an option because she was that self-involved. If any of us ever came close to the topic of bringing up the fact that she wasn't very affectionate or anything at all, she would react like a 4-year-old-child and cry a river and make us feel bad instead. Having a conversation was never an option. So, unfortunately, she had been oblivious to what she did to my psychological well being. Since she was diagnosed with alzheimer's, I have tried in distant ways to help her out-- taking her to appointments, signing her up for classes, taking her shopping, etc. I don't smile around her, I can't and I won't pretend. I don't want to have a heart-to-heart. I know she would really like that because she has no idea how much I hate her. Anyway, I can ramble on for days on this topic, but I am glad to know there are others dealing with this same problem... gives me strength and hope.
37
I dont know how you do it but god bless you for it!
10
30 years of "therapy". That tells us how much good it does. It is a life-long sinecure for the "therapist", but only a waste of time and money for the patient.
6
IMO everyone should have a therapy group they attend weekly. Unlike friends who are inclined to kiss and tell... members of the group and therapists.. probably don't care enough to kiss and telll or if they kiss and tell it doesn't create problems.
Whatever helps people perhaps achieve their laudable or piteable goals whatever they may be. Friends cannot do it. Conftonting a friend who needs to do something to get them to do it..-- IMExperience-- HOPELESS.. and destructive to the friendship.. OTOH in the therapy setting people can offer advice which becomes neutral not charged or simply support.
I don't like one on one therapy but I know many people )friends) who listened to their therapists who would often profer the same advice I gave. (You said exactly what my therpaist said.)
The kindness of strangers MUSt be covered by our healthcare system... possibly worth more than multiple visits to specialists who find nothing amiss or order useless tests or other procedures. The mystery disease article where scurvey turned out to be the cause-- vit. C deficiency was an interesting one fromm this point of view.
Ha. I never had 30 years of therapy! I had two.
Maybe it helped - could have been worse - bi-polar and personality disorders are not easily treatable for some.
1
"If you don't stop I'm gonna knock your head off" was one of my mother's go-to threats. I didn't realize it was a bit over the top until I repeated it to my 2nd grade classmates and they mocked me for it. That empathy emerges from one of the most impossible to the most natural emotions to impart for a mother who succumbs to alzheimer's after a lifetime of mental anguish and anxiety thrust upon her children is almost poetic justice. But justice is absent from the long, tortuous days of her decline and I'd trade her lucid rants for fragments of poetic moments any day.
4
I've read many of these comments and I ask myself, were these loving people hiding underneath the cruel people they were when allegedly sane? My grandmother was beyond difficult during most of her lifetime, and tirelessly cruel to her only child, my mother. But by the time she reached her 90s, she had mellowed with senility into a sweet old lady. Able to show her love for us in the first time in her life. I'm afraid this change of heart was lost on my mother who was simply glad to have this destructive woman out of her life once she finally died.
13
That's a good question. I think my mother wanted to be good. But the untreated mental illness, the drinking, the fury at her life, left her little choice. Her descent into selfishness was probably protective but hard for a little girl to see or a young woman to comprehend.
4
I have spent six years flying every four months from Europe to the US for week-long visits to my dementia-afflicted mother. I look after her as best I can, because I am the only child. Your story is deeply touching and I am delighted for you that you are seeing some beauty and love in this heart-rending experience. I was the mediator between and the unwilling confidante of two supremely-mismatched parents. They created a relentlessly unhappy home that I escaped physically, but still feel its emotional effects. When I see my mother now, I mourn for her lost opportunities for happiness, independence and connections to her family. I do not feel close to her, yet I am shattered to witness her slow and dignity-free decline. Your story describes the fog of dementia perfectly, and I have an inkling as to how much you must cherish those unexpected rays of lucidity that bring your mother back to you for moments of loving connection. Thank you for this article.
17
Reading your story filled with love, forgiveness, compassion, and grace brought me to tears. My mother's long goodbye with Altzheimers was gentle as she retained all the kindness and love that were her core through her life. I was blessed to be her daughter.
10
Your beautiful, thoughtful, compassionate essay reminds me how lucky I was in my life with the mother who was "assigned" to me. It is so serendipitous. Thank you.
8
You are a beautiful soul, and this essay is really moving. You made your peace and you are the big winner.
My mom on the contrary to you (very selfish and without empathy) discovered how her mom was phenomenal and how she had loved her daughter once she got Alzheimer’s.
My grandma kept a lot of humor until the end that made all the nurses love her, she was nice inside and I think it made hers and everybody’s life easier around her.
1
A heartbreaking, beautiful column - thank you. I'm the oldest daughter of a very difficult, volatile mother. I never had children because my mother convinced me that we were the source of her unhappiness and anger. She is (and was) frequently depressed, as well as possibly bipolar or with a personality disorder. (She refused to do anything about any of it.) We hadn't spoken for 4 years after she accused me yet again of saying and doing hateful things that never happened. When she called me last year and we had more interaction it became clear she was having memory issues and was losing the ability to cope.
Now I'm responsible for her care (she's still living in her home) and it's the hardest thing I've ever done. I've yet to come to terms with this phase of our lives . . . she's still incredibly difficult and we still are walking on eggshells around her, but perhaps there's hope yet for something good to come from it all.
13
I am an oldest child and have a similar situation, made worse by my father's death last year. I have been responsible for eldercare for three adult relatives since my twenties, and helped my mother during all my non-working hours to care for my dying father. I was being treated for cancer as he was dying of his. I hoped that my mother's and my working partnership would become an improved and at least tolerable relationship. Instead, her rages resumed the day after my father's funeral. My siblings are no help. I hope it all goes the best that it can for you, and that you have a good support network helping you.
Both our Mothers died with Alzheimer's a few years ago; that was painful enough. We are now helping with our beautiful Daughter who, at 50, was
diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer's. My wife, for 26 years, was the Social Worker in the Nursing Home where Our Mothers died. We were able to move those few years ago to live just three minutes from our Daughter
and her Husband who is still working and on the Road a few days a week.
I am a retired Lutheran pastor and LicensedFamily Therapist. Alzheimer's is a scourge of a disease. Much is yet to done in the care and Treatment of
this devastating state. I appreciate Lisa's thoughtful and tender words in her Loving care of her Mother. I spite of our Daughter's failing condition,
I wish I could share her treasured Smile with those outside our Family.
She is the presence of Grace.
17
Forgiveness is painful but I think, the only path forward. Well done.
5
I think it was the fact that her mother was helpless and really could hurt no one anymore that permitted Ms. Solod to be gracious. Indeed, it was Alzheimer's that made room for love, as the title states.
Mine was abusive to the end. She left me exhausted; I was relieved at her passing.
16
What a beautiful article! It brought tears to my eyes. Your mother is a very lucky person to have a wonderful daughter like you.
11
My mother in law, soon to be 99, lives in the same world as this woman. I dont think she will ever die. Not that I care either as she is invincible. She tells me I need a shave when I visit (I'm a woman).. Tells my brother in law, her son, he's fat (he's not).. she panics if we wheel down the hall. This nebulous world she lives in, where ensure ensures she lives, she spends 12K a month to live in this place, good thing she was so cheap when she was younger, I mean that sincerely because otherwise my husband and his 5 siblings would be paying. All my mother in law looks forward to is when we say good bye. This a woman who taught 1st grade for 20 years, who was such a good Catholic. A good mom, a great wife, a loving grandma. It's all so sad really. She has been this way for 7 years and before that we could see she was going, we all thought she would die once as she got sick. nope! she recovered. I miss my old mother in law. This shell, this super aged woman isn't my kids grandma (granted my kiis are 31 and 29).. It also makes me face my own mortality, going on 70... do I want her life? NO NEVER.. but my husband may have to, my family has the good sense to not live past 78..intact. It's a very sad end to a life full of love. My mother died 18 years ago of lung cancer.. I said good bye the night before and she said good bye to me.... if my mom lived like my mother in law she would have hated it. Life is for the living, glad my mom had good sense. miss her.
5
Really moving article with so much love.
I personally don’t want to end up that way , a wrapping in the hands of strangers .
I hope that finally some nationwide legislation about self determinamental de of end of life , will , with a legally written end of life paper , be authorized for citiz who require it .
There should be legal medical requirements stating the ineluctably demise of the patient with no hope for improvement, so the written will of the person still ableminded will be honored when the mind has ceased to function .
10
Dementia has enabled Lisa Solod to project feelings onto her relationship with her mother that otherwise wouldn't exist. Finally she has some measure of control over this brutally destructive force in her life.
As my elderly mother has declined physically, her mind has remained sharp. A vicious, sadistic, resentful narcissist, she continues to damage her grown children every chance she gets. Two of my sisters are martyring themselves in a hopeless quest to finally win her approval before she dies. It would be easier on them if they could, like Solod, scratch her on the head like a cat and interpret random nonabusive interactions as love.
21
Not everyone has the opportunity or desire to forgive, even after the abuser has been rendered helpless by age and mental deterioration.
And perhaps that's a good thing. Our culture's emphasis on forgiveness has a downside: It gives the perpetrator permission to continue their physical and emotional violence without experiencing any penalty for the behavior.
12
I agree with your comment but would also add a bit. You're absolutely right that not everyone has opportunity/desire to forgive, regardless of the situation. And you're right about the downside of our culture's emphasis on forgiveness. What I would add is that this downside is because we largely fail to understand forgiveness, and I put that squarely at the feet of Christian teaching (and I say that as a Christian pastor myself). I have met too many people who have been taught that to "forgive" is to "forget"....which of course then allows exactly what you said - the perpetrator has permission to continue physical/emotional violence without consequence. We can forgive for our own peace of mind if we so choose, but that absolutely doesn't mean that there shouldn't be consequences for perpetrators. There can be both; would that we as a society could understand that!
1
I don't see this as forgiveness. I see this as a person - the author continuing to grow up thru life... and recognizing (prob because of lots of neurotice friends) that her mother too had all kinds of growing pains... and growing old pains. We are part of all we have met said the poet.
I see this as acceptance of all kinds of things including that the past is past. and perhaps one can only partially understand why her mother acted as she did...-- mental disease we know can come and go. Obviously, her mother did not monitor herself at least some of the time.
It's superb kindness and a sense of responsibility and having the wherewithal that allows the author to interact with this very impaired old person who has occasional moments of some sort of lucidity..
IPerhaps the author will share with us when her mother has passed.
Language BTB conceals as much as it reveals.
I am glad that you are experiencing positive closure with your mother. Sadly, I did not with my mother. Her dementia merely exacerbated what had always been a depressed, narcissistic and negative personality. I did the right thing by her in her care, was there every step of the way, and made sure she felt loved when she died, but I still feel the lifetime of hurt she inflicted.
30
I'm so sorry. For whatever reason the disease softened my mom...a little. When she lost herself completely I could really let go. I knew we'd never have a 'talk,' and I gave up hoping. It wasn't easy but it filled me with peace.
11
Look, you made me cry.
15
Unexpected benefit that almost made up for the hardship of caring for her. She forgot she was a mean, cruel woman... almost...
10
Touching, thank you. Many can relate.
20
Thank you for this piece. We are in the middle of this journey with our mother. The shower terrors are exactly true. Still hoping for a redemptive episode, but she saves her tenderness for the caregivers at the facility, god bless them. They are angels.
Overall, it is a disciplined process of letting go: of the hurtful past, of a wish for mutual forgiveness, of explanations or revelations for terrible decisions.
26
Yes, may seem a side issue to the main ponit of the essay but I was struck and in awe .....the patience and incredible kindness of this lady's caregivers. How do they do it day in and day out...for strangers! Amazing.
agreed that this is a fantastic telling of a profound experience.
i’d like to add a cheer for the professionals who care tenderly for others’ parents, day after day after day. they are (fittingly) in the background here, but very important, too.
48
Thank you for the shout out to those who care for others' parents. Please remember, at voting time, that many of them are people whose temporary protected status in this country (following the 2010 earthquakes) was summarily eliminated by a racist Administration led by a man who denigrates them. My mother has been washed, fed, sung to, and otherwise indulged by Haitian taxpayers who have fully integrated into our country and culture. I am eternally grateful.
This piece touches on a fact of Alzheimer's rarely mentioned...sufferers in the latter stages now and then return from the tangled and mangled world in which this disease has stranded them and are heart-breakingly lucid and aware.
It's just for seconds but it happens.
My mother who died from the affects of Alzheimer's once asked me where her mother was and I unthinkingly said, "She's dead, Mama."
Then my real, pre-Alzheimer's mother was there, actually there, and she looked at me said, "I forgot... and now it hurts as much as when she died."
And then she was gone, back to the world of not remembering. I never told her a painful truth again.
38
As touching a meditation on love, aging and illness as can be imagined.
24
LISA SOLOD, THANK YOU. We who had moms who were dreadful but brilliant, sometimes oracular and sometimes blackhole-magnitude depressed SALUTE YOU. My wounds only stopped festering in the last few years, as my Mom's dementia advanced. A few weeks ago we were sneaking peanut butter cups in the day room while the televised Rosary rolled on screen What fun!
I visit my mom a few times a year & recently recommitted to a more regular schedule. How timely and blessed your piece. You are a good writer and getting better. We are counting on you.
36
Beautifully written, Lisa. I am awed by your compassion. I wonder if, one day, my own mother's de-escalation might lend me some, too.
26
I totally understand this! I am not as generous as you but I took my mother in for 3 years after my sister threw her out. She’s so far gone now that I cannot visit but once a year. Somehow the mother’s abuse did not make us abusive in return. I wish you well!
23
I thought I and my sisters were the only ones whose mother threatened to break their arm if they misbehaved. In one case, this might have involved forgetting to put our napkins in our laps at the Dallas Women's Club luncheon. Who would ever have thought that nice ladies you meet at the country club were abusive drunks?
When she died I wished I could put a stake through her heart to make sure.
46
I'm so sorry. My mother was sick and once I understood that I could let her go and forgive her.
41
I totally thought I would feel like that. I didn't have kids myself because I thought having children is what made one unhappy. I have been lucky to find that compassion for those who abuse me has made me better able to cope and strategize around the abuse. And forgiveness has stopped the wounds from festering. And I really thought my sister and i would NEVER be in this space either.
14
In my case, I had an absent father. More than absent, he destroyed his finances, spending his money elsewhere. He didn't think of his children when doing this. I cannot say that I forgave him. I cannot forget neither what he did and nor how he did it. He was such a religious moralist, always pointing out the failures of others, but he couldn't stand when we, his children, addressed his failures. I can understand your feelings.
However, I had the same privilege of Lisa Solod. I was able to help my father when disease and dementia erased his ability to hurt others. I will never say that we have to respect abusive parents. Nevertheless, we must help them when they need. We cannot afford to be like them. It would be too cruel to ourselves and it would be, you see, their last victory.
16
Really moving
11
You are a much better woman than I, Ms. Solod. I cheered when my abusive mother died. Free at last.
42
Hope you know what a wonderful daughter you are, Lisa. Hang on to these tender memories of your mom. They'll help get you through.
13
Deeply heartfelt. Thank you.
11
This hits very close to home for me, too - beautiful. Thank you for putting this experience into words.
17
Your story with your mother is so similar to mine. I will remember the years of caring for Mom in an assisted living facility until her death as not only some of the sweetest times between the two of us (which had not been the case earlier in our lives), but some of the happiest times of my life. All I can say is that life holds many surprises as this was totally unexpected.
35
Sometimes a thought occurred to me as I cared for my mother during her last years - maybe Alzheimers is not all about the patient but instead is meant as an opportunity for the caregiver? Solod's article resonated on several levels, not the least of which was that caregiving was an opportunity to finally forgive and express love, unconditionally, to someone who had hurt us deeply, was less than perfect, but was nevertheless an extricable part of us. To bring things full circle. I had another similar experience to Solod. After not being able to talk for a couple of years, my mother was in her final decline and developed yet another aspiration pneumonia. As the nurse cleared her airway I said "Whew, I'll bet that feels better." She looked at me and sighed in return, "Yes, it does" she replied clearly. I stood amazed and shocked. It meant that I had been wrong for years when I assumed she was mentally "asleep." If I had it to do over again I would have read to her - Dickens and poetry probably, her favorites.
38
Thankyou for beautiful essay. It was so interesting for me to read as I had many similar experiences and yet with a mother who was always a wonderful mother. So I sat and watched the mother who I loved and the mother that loved me - disappear. And as this happened, it became increasingly difficult for me to say "I love you" to someone who looked like my mother but was not. I went through all the right motions but had to rely on the vault of love that had been stored away through the prior years. Lisa meanwhile was finding and receiving her love only at the end. This essay made me reflect on the notions of live and time. Thankyou Lisa.
28
Wow. This is heartbreaking and has made me weep uncontrollably. Love is so complicated at times. And your kindness beyond measure. Beautifully written!
18
Lisa, thank you for conveying this universal moment so eloquently, tenderly and lovingly. It speaks to your resilience to keep writing , keep loving and keep forgiving even though that wasn't modeled for you as a child.
Your story has encouraged me to continue in a very similar situation. Thank you.
16
Though I have grown up with a Bi-Polar parent, I thankfully never had to see my parents go through this horrible disease. You have made me understand it so clearly with your writing, Lisa. It was heartbreaking and yet so loving. Thank you for this.
9
I love this. It’s so beautifully written!
13
As the child of a very difficult mother who succumbed to dementia, I understand your painful story of love. This is very touching writing & brought me to tears of recognition both for you, and your mother, but also for mine.
66
Touching, Lisa. Your last line made me happy.
14
It's stories like this that shows why great writers matter. And make me remember why I subscribe to the NY Times.
64
hear, hear!
3
This is heartbreaking and beautiful and hits so close to home. Always a fan of Solod's writing, and even more so now.
7
Beautifully written... this made me cry.
8
Beautiful words.
6
LOVE, LOVE, LOVE this!!! It must be so hard to see your Mom go through this!!!
6
Beautiful words. My heart breaks for anyone going through this with a parent or loved one. We were “fortunate” (if you could call it that) our own father died still remembering who we were. Seeing our brilliant parents (and their children) go through this horrible disease...you simply cannot understand unless you tragically experience it yourself. Having the strength to write so beautifully about it is truly admirable.
27
Suzi, I don't know if this helps but I have felt comforted thinking that this is a new stage of my mother's life. Just as she is no longer climbing trees in her parents backyard, or typing as a secretary in midtown Manhattan, or boiling glass bottles in her first apartment for her toddler sons, she is now in a stage of life where her existence is no less tied to others, if the others only have eyes to see and hearts that are open to it. I was so moved last week to see nursing home workers flock to see old photos of her I had brought in to show. She lit up at the attention, and they were truly engaged.
20
Beautifully written, heartfelt and thought provoking. It takes immense compassion and maturity to shower love on someone that was unkind. Being a grown up is hard at best.
60
Touching. You are truly a blessing for your mom. She was before and is still lucky to have you attend to her. Other children would have abandoned her.
14
Sometimes ‘abandoning’ is the only sane option. Over time, my 86 year old mother has managed to make any sort of relationship with her daughters nearly impossible. Only one of us, the sister who was mostly absent and with good reason, has the energy to stay in very limited contact with her. The rest of us sapped.
8
Beautifully written. I feel her pain and her forgiveness. Time, and love, can heal old wounds.
8
How thoroughly agonizing. No one would want this slow and sad end of days for their mom or loved one. I can't imagine it would be anyone's wish to exist in this state for years, let alone the impact on their families. Love makes us do difficult things though at what cost?
9
Cost? I see only great benefit in this mother and daughter reconciliation.
6
Heartbreaking, yet beautiful.
7
Wow, what a beautiful essay. Honest, emotional, and lovely writing.
7
What a stunning essay. The author writes so beautifully but also so accurately about that devastating and complicated grief/love evoked by caring for somebody with advanced dementia, made even more devastating and complicated by the history of this relationship. SO well done.
34
My dad was a huge fan of the Kansas City Royals. When his dementia became really bad, the team was a their absolute nadir, losing in the most humiliating ways. I always told people the one bright spot of his illness was that if he saw baseball on TV, he thought it was the Royals winning the World Series. He was their only happy fan at that time.
This is a beautiful piece of writing. Our relationships with our parents are so intense and tangled. I'm glad to read of the glimmers of peace and resolution.
16
Hello Ida, what a charming memory of the Royals winning the World Series (or not.) *smile*
2
Great story, Ida!
1
Such a beautiful and sad story. It brought many tears.
7
Hauntingly beautiful. A tribute to what so many are struggling with when caring for a parent. It is hard enough when then the relationship is loving and harder still when the relationship is complicated.
29
Thank you, Lisa, for sharing this. My father has been in a nursing home for the past three years with advanced Alzheimer's. Each time I visit him (every three months), I remember the harm he once brought me, yet also feel immense compassion for a man whose disease, as evil as it is, has made him the gentle. loving father I've been looking for since way back when.
38
A beautiful story told by a marvelous and impassioned writer. let's have more!
4
What a beautiful generous, and compassionate story. Thank you.
11
This is an achingly beautiful article about how a daughter demonstrates love for a mother with Alzheimer's despite that mother's mental health challenges formerly preventing her from showing such unselfish love to her daughter. This daughter's acceptance and insight (without oversentimentalizing) shows tremendous maturity, empathy and poignancy.
49
This is a like a love letter. It is one we get to write when we are older and wiser and our experiences show us that we can be compassionate and almost forgiving based on the need of a person who was once paramount to us. It is reserved for people who truly tried to love us in their own shattering way, but were incapable of the reason that we see in those we consider "normal". Kudos to you for your ability to be present and her limited ability to recognize your gestures as love. Well written, and well done Lisa.
40
Seems to be our destiny and our children's destiny. This gave me flashbacks to my own mother's decline. I didn't read what you wrote at 22 but this is poignant. Thank you.
4
This story moved me to tears. It's not exactly my story with my parents, but snippets of those final stages hold true. I witnessed more cognitive changes in my own patients in nursing facilities, and admired the resolve of families who routinely visited. Watching the fading away of the strong men and women who raised us and were so instrumental in forming who we are is heartbreaking.
12
Lovely. More than lovely: stunning. So much packed into a gesture. So much packed into this essay.
12
Beautifully told through small, simple moments. It brought me to tears.
6
The roles of parent and child are reversed, exchanged, when an adult becomes like an infant, completely dependent on another person.
13
Beautiful.
11
This story is enormously touching and brought tears to my eyes. Relationships between mother and child are complicated enough without living hopeless years of increasing dementia. This disease is just about the worst possible. We are all at risk, some more than others, of ending our lives the way this mother has, and anyone skeptical of this statement should spend an hour or two in a nursing home--any nursing home. There should be a legal way for people diagnosed with incurable dementia to end their lives peacefully and with dignity.
85