Struggle of Love

I am struggling with deeply mixed feelings this week, and part of my struggle is with guilt.  Always guilt.  The guilt is misplaced, and intellectually, I know that, but emotionally, I still feel guilt.  It is as if I am responsible not just for Mother's care but for her having dementia.  I feel responsible for how she feels knowing that that kind of thinking is senseless.  Nevertheless, I feel it.  My mind wrestles with my heart.

Over the last months several friends have lost their mothers, and even though the pain and sorrow they feel is deep and real, I imagine there is a sense of relief.  I know that my prayers have been that their mothers have been welcomed home into the kingdom of heaven, but I have also whispered a prayer of thanks that their mother's struggles are over.  And therein lies my guilt.

I welcome Mother's smile each time a visit.  Yesterday, when I first arrived, I took her face in my hands and kissed her cheek as I always do.  She grinned and called me by name and said, "Oh, I love you."  It was so sweet.  She knew me yesterday.  I was overcome with joy that she could recognize me and express her love.  I was happy to have that moment with her.

But as we went for a walk in the hall, it was evident that she was having trouble walking.  He left leg and foot were not working well.  He arm was curled and her hand clenched.  Her diaper was full and sagging.  I changed her diaper, but there is nothing I can do about her arm or hand or leg.

Her talk turned to silly jabber.  She howled.  She accused everyone else of having lost their minds and not knowing a thing.  She got upset when another resident had a cookie and wanted one too.  I got a cookie for her, and she tried to stuff the whole thing in her mouth at once and got choked.  I have to remind her to sip through the straw of her drink and not just chew on it.  She wanted to hold hands, but she squeezed my hand so tightly that I thought she might break a bone.  Still she tried to grab my hand and would  press her lips together and grip as hard as she could.  She is still very strong and she can inflict pain.

And this is where the guilt comes.  I cherish my Mother.  Despite the horrors of the dementia, I enjoy most of my visits with her.  There is still her presence that I don't want to give up.  Yet, there are days when I wish the struggle might be over.  I don't want to lose her, but sometimes the struggle, the loss of who she is and was is overpowering.  Sometimes her life seems full of joy, and sometimes nothing but misery.  The emotions clash and roll through me.  And on the days when I wish the battle was done, I feel guilt beyond measure.  Even confessing to these emotions generates guilt, but they are real emotions and denying them doesn't make them disappear. So, perhaps acknowledging them and knowing that at the core of it all is love will help ease my struggle. But both Mother and I will continue to struggle in our own ways.