March 10 – 19, 2011 ~ A Trip to San Antonio, Texas
One of my favorite cities in the US is San Antonio, Texas. It’s a place I used to visit once a year or so, and then it became two times a year. During my visits I would enjoy visiting family, shopping and lunch at Nordstrom’s, and even getting my craving for Tex-Mex met a time or two.
Over the last few years, I have been fortunate to visit more often because my sweet mother, who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s some eight-ten years ago, has been steadily declining. This last visit was the saddest and hardest because it was my time to spend with her before I said goodbye – probably for the last time.
My father often says that had my mother known she would ever have Alzheimer’s, and become as she is now, it would have just killed her soul. I’m sure this is true. I often think it would have really angered her, too, as my mom was feisty and had quite the temper!
Prior to my recent visit it seemed mom had declined rapidly. Her words had faltered for some time to where she remained silent. Her walking had become a struggle too. In the last month, Hospice has been overseeing her care. Mom fell three times in two days, and so she was confined to a wheelchair. Soon after, a hospital bed was brought into the nursing home where she stays. She became unable to feed herself and when subsequent swallowing difficulties arose, she was placed on pureed foods. Now she spends her days and early evenings in the wheelchair either sleeping or sometimes staring off unless family members are there – which they are regularly throughout the day. When I arrived I didn’t know what to expect, but those who have been with her on a regular basis noticed she seemed to have rallied where she would look at us and a fleeting smile would cross her face. Sometimes she would make a funny face by making her eyes open wide, and always when my father went to leave, she would pucker up for a little kiss.
Two memories will stay with me as I remember this last visit. The first, our son Sam flew out to be with his Nana. He said he’d rather be with her in life than to be at her funeral. When he first arrived and saw his grandmother her eyes opened wide and she had a slight smile cross her face. We’ve all agreed she may not know us by name, but she knows we are hers in some way. Sam has known a special bond with my mother. I’m not sure what it is, but if I had to guess, it’s that he inherited her sense of humor which was evident early on. This comes from me, of course! Sam sat at my mother’s side and talked to her and gently touched her. This sweet son of mine comforted me, too, when I left the nursing home for the last time before the long flight back to Sweden. The second memory was on day three of my visit, when my sister and I started to leave. I bent down and kissed my mother and said goodbye. For some reason, I do not know why, it didn’t cross my mind at that moment to say it until my sister prompted me to. I told my mom I loved her. In the clearest and strongest sound I have heard from her in a long, long time she said, “I love you” in return. Those three words are forever etched on my heart, as I’m sure it’s the last time I will hear them from her lips. And to think that day I almost didn’t say it.
The deception of Alzheimer’s is one minute you think your loved one is worse and you grieve. Then she seems to get better and you are hopeful, only to have things change again and you plunge into sadness once more. But what I know for certain is this: I can celebrate the gift of my mother’s rally, the gift of my son’s love and his support, and the gift of those last three words, I love you. And, in the end, when we all gather from different cities, states, and even countries to honor her life, we can celebrate the gift she will give us all - the gift of a family once again joined together.
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