The Look

The other day I was at The Farm waiting for my mentor to show for a meeting. There was a young man sitting with a much older woman at the table next to me. He looked like her grandson. She was a sweet older woman with white hair cut in a cute bob, parted on the side and held back with bobby pins. She was quietly sitting across from him and though he said a few things to her she didn’t respond. Just sat there quietly.

Eventually, what appeared to be her two children, returned to the table. She looked at them with her beautiful blue eyes and as I watched her look at them I recognized the look. She knew she should love them, but she didn’t recognize them. Her son gave her a cookie, which she enjoyed, but she didn’t really know who he was – this kind man bringing her a cookie and speaking sweetly to her.

It reminded me of my mom, before the Alzheimer’s got particularly brutal. She would sit with us, interact as best she could, but you could tell that while she knew she should love us she didn’t know who we were to her.

It must be so disconcerting – to one moment know where you are and who you are with and then the next moment feel completely alone and scared.

I miss my mom. I wish I could go back and be more compassionate to her. I wish I could have loved her more. Better.

I hope she knew it was Juniper and I who were with her, holding her hands and stroking her hair, telling her she would be alright when she left this world. I hope she didn’t feel alone.

J.

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