I gave her a flu shot yesterday at work. Even before she sat in my chair, I knew. It was the stare that went right through you that gave it away. It was the daughter-in-law shepherding her along, and making sure she didn’t get away. It was the odd silence that gave it away. I knew she had dementia.
I knew it, because I have lived it. Her outward appearance was vastly different, but that stare was eerily similar to the one my Mother would give us in her last weeks. I don’t cry often now, but yesterday, I might have shed a few tears because of the memories that were brought forth. I might be wiping away more tears as I type. Dementia is cruel and hard. It hit Mom fast and furious, and in less time than it takes for a baby to be conceived and born, vascular dementia came, wreaked havoc, and took her from us. November 23rd will be one year since she left us. Today would have been her 77th birthday.
Leslie, Mother and me – 2013
Last year on this day I baked a cake and took it to the assisted living facility where Mother lived. She ate some, which was totally unlike her, because she never cared for dessert. I’m pretty sure she didn’t understand that it was her birthday cake, although she smiled and laughed a bit, and was her usual pleasant self.
Wayne and Barbara at Wayne’s 50th class reunion June, 2004. Taken just 4 months before Daddy died.
Today, she celebrates with Jesus, and my Daddy, and so many who have gone before her. Today is our last first. Her first birthday in heaven. Our first time to celebrate her birthday without her. Happy Birthday, Mother. I love you and I miss you. I’ll see you soon.
