Today it feels like Mother is gone. The Alzheimer's, the dementia, has taken her completely today. She greeted me by name, but today there was so little of her remaining.
She was just finishing her lunch, and I could tell by looking at her that it wasn't a good day. Her face was dark. There was so little life to it. She had eaten all of her lunch, but there was just a blankness about her that told me even the pleasantries she can usually manage would not be there. She noticed the monkeys on the bag I was carrying, and she shook her fist and said, "Big ears, they have big ears. Just like Bob." Her face was pinched into a scowl and she would shake her fist at the monkeys. I put the bag out of her sight and suggested that today we would try to be all sweetness and light. Her demeanor changed completely. She smiled, as real a smile as she can manage, her face relaxed, and she was calm again. But the darkness returned.
She was still gone. We went to her room, and she just stood in the middle of the floor. She did not want to sit in her chair. She did not want to lie down. She did not want to look out of the window. She just stood there blank and quiet. I suggested she help me put the dirty clothes in the laundry bag, but she declined. She just stood. I finally got her to help me hold the bag open, but she was disinterested and wandered over to her bed.
We flossed and brushed her teeth, changed her wet diaper, and I tucked her into bed for a nap. She looked at me and said, "You are fading. So long dear friend." I kissed her, stroked her hair and told her I would see her later. Today there was no response.
This is the first day I have not been able to find Mother, or at least a little part of her. She was gone. I'm left feeling so hollow inside. I'm terrified that she is gone for good. I know that the disease is slow, and she will have more good days when I can find a small piece of her. Today I could only find the husk of her body animated and moving but not Mother.
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