Y'all, this is so hard. I feel like I've been punched really hard in the chest -- it's that kind of sharp fierce ache.
Today I was at Wal-Mart. My mother was born in a town in the middle of Indiana that had less than 1000 people in it, and she loved going to Wal-Mart. I swear, she went every day, whether she was buying anything or not. I was looking for the toothpaste we needed and it just hit me, she'll never go to Wal-Mart again.
And my father can't remember she's dead. He keeps asking where she is, and my brother has to tell him, over and over, and each time it's like the first time he's heard it. It hurts him that much, every time.
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| My parents, 2019 |
6 comments:
Maybe just not tell your dad? He can't process it or remember it. She went to the store, she'll be back, I'm with you right now. I don't know. I haven't dealt with that much dementia, but it seems the key is to enter the world of the person with dementia, not try to keep them in your world. Provide what reassurance you can. I realize it's not you saying this, it's your brother, and IME it's pretty hard to control brothers.
They're looking into an assisted living with memory care, and I suppose the memory people will tell them what to do. My brothers, at this point, I think, will do anything that even might work.
When I was asked by my Aunt with dementia where her parents were, I at first would say, "Sibyl, they have died." Then she would say "Why didn't anyone tell me?" That was so hard for her, to think that no-one had even told her, that I quickly switched to "I think they'll be here soon."
That sounds really hard all around. Long-distance hugs to you and your family.
Thinking of you and your family. It's very hard, but hopefully gets better with time.
I am so, so sorry. Your post about her life is beautiful.
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