She Lives…In Memory

Four years ago marked the end of her beloved life, sadly, after a three-year battle with Alzheimer’s Disease ravaged her mind, aged her once tireless body, left her without resolve or initiative as each new day dawned, seized her with a daunting fear that gripped her emotions like a vice.

Three years prior, Mom went about her every day with love, affection, tireless caring for her family and her home, total independence to come and go as life dictated. The kettle sung a high-pitched whistle marking the start of a new day as water came to a furious bubble on the stove. Fresh coffee was about to be brewed for yawning early risers struggling to bring the day into focus.

Dad’s silent gaze at Mom that morning was somehow different, seemingly saddened and alarming. When Dad fell silent I could sense imminent concern, frustration, perhaps safeguarding unspoken news that he preferred never to have to share. I became nervous.

As mom went about her daily routine in the kitchen, then stepped out briefly to water the colourful splendour of floral display that she so painstakingly planted and cared for each year along the patio, Dad motioned for us to draw quietly near. What he proceeded to tell us was not entirely surprising, but nonetheless painful to hear, absorb and accept as a new reality…Mom had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease.

Although we desperately wanted to believe that another explanation would be forthcoming about Mom’s disposition, the reality was that several of her siblings had suffered the same fate and eventually would succumb to this ravaging illness that has now become so prevalent in our family, our community and around the globe.

The very things that mom cherished and took such pride in would slowly be taken away from her, that being pride, confidence, independence, fond memories of recent and distant past occasions that she held dear. And worst of all…no longer able to recognize family and friends aside from some confused sense of awareness that those people were somehow connected.

Photos in the many weathered photo albums that captured special and memorable moments were met with a wondering gaze, a blank and questioning stare, a lack of interest or….connection. The most difficult, heart-wrenching moment was when Mom first failed to recognize her own son standing next to her in the living room amidst a backdrop of framed family pictures carefully arranged on the fireplace mantle…still, no recognition, only confusion and apparent separation from all that just a short time ago was so familiar.

Her children always clung to Mom’s support and friendship when the going got tough. No matter how difficult the circumstance, no matter how wayward our course had ever been, she was always there for her entire family. Her hand was always extended, her words kind and reassuring, her wisdom endearing. And then all of a sudden our roles reversed, her fears intense and the pain lingering behind clouded and saddened eyes told a story of loss unspeakable to a son standing before her, holding her to calm a troubled mind.

Three years later, as we stepped into a silent hospital room, private…and final, mom laying motionless and finally at peaceful rest, lost to an illness she surely did not deserve, a son sat in tears, in despair, with his own sense of great loss. Her hand held gently, her hair touched one last time, her image savoured with a prayer that wherever she may then be she would be free of pain, fear, confusion…looking down upon us from a much more deserving place.

Perhaps Mom is once again blessed with memories…and recognition as she watches us from where she now sits, in comfort and happiness, watching over her family…as she always has, the way it still should be.

Love always,

Your son.

copyright 2007 Don MacIver

A Troubled Mind

There have been times when I have found it near impossible to draft a cohesive piece that anyone would wish to read. This is one of those times.

I find myself challenged not by any sort of writer’s block but instead by a cluttered, troubled mind. Human relationships seem to travel a rocky road and while bouncing heavily and seemingly out of control on this mogul-studded path I find it terribly arduous maintaining coherent thought patterns long enough to write something intelligible.

How frustrating this becomes. A singular, or ongoing, battle with my partner leaves me confused, frustrated and lacking the energy or literary foresight to compile a meaningful, enjoyable article or poem. Why must the human relationship be so cluttered with anger, deceit, antagonism, head games, half-truths, placating nuances, insolence, benevolence, argumentative sniping, and the like.

As a writer we need clarity of thought, peace of mind, cohesive and cognitive disposition. The human relationship seems to muddle that to the point of total distraction. Life is so fast, so busy, demanding and downright chaotic at the best of times and to separate oneself from it all long enough and often enough to achieve one’s literary aspirations seems a near unattainable goal to set.

Well, tomorrow is another day and the right words will come. For tonight….I’ll lick my wounds and resolve to do a better job all around with the rise of the sun tomorrow.