Lonely

This is the first year that Christmas has had no real meaning for Mother.  The trees were pretty, the inflatable Santa on the yard was exciting, the packages were fun for a minute, but there was no real sense of holiday.  Everything was in the moment except her sense on loneliness.

Several times during the holidays, curled up on her bed with her head tucked down, she told me she was so lonely.  It is true that one can be surrounded by people and yet be incredibly lonely.  She craves conversation, but that is almost impossible.  I talk with her, and like a very young child, she takes it as conversation.  But there is no real meaning and there is so little I can do to alleviate her loneliness.  We walk to the indoor aviary or stroll down a hall.  We play catch with a small, soft ball.  We watch TV together.

It isn't enough, but it must do.  She has long hours, yet time doesn't move for her.  A few family members visit now and then. I visit almost every day, yet the loneliness continues for her.  She can't remember that we were there, so to her the loneliness is primary.  She is trapped in it.  And I wonder how often this scene is repeated in the home, in the city, in the state, in the nation, and in the world.  Old people, once so beloved and so involved in the lives of family and friends sit alone and are lonely.  They are not who they were, and visiting them can be very difficult.  But still the essence of who they were remains.  Their presence is still real.  They are still human beings who need to be loved and touched and kissed.  I sometimes despair that Alzheimer's takes the memory of visits and love from Mother and leaves her lonely.  Perhaps I too will have to learn to live in just those moments with her and make them enough.