~ I wrote this for the Thanksgiving Newsletter, then had requests to include it in our Blog section. Thank you, Members, for your kind suggestion :)
This is a photo of the table I set for Mom and me for Thanksgiving, a Thanksgiving that didn't happen.
When I arrived at her Residence to pick her up, she was in a blurry state of confusion, sadness, and curled up in bed. I took my coat and boots off and laid down beside her. She had no idea it was Thanksgiving, no sense of our plans, and certainly couldn't remember the dozen phone calls she made to me this morning and every day this past week anxiously asking what we would be doing for the Holiday.
We laid there quietly as I spun a few tales that lifted her spirits. I even cracked her up so hard that she scurried to the washroom, scolding and swearing at me for making her almost piddle her pants! I have my talents.
Story-time continued, but as her eyelids lids began to fall and she drifted off to sleep, I gathered my things to leave.
She opened her eyes when I kissed her twice on the forehead and squeezed her hands. I assured her I would call in a short while.
This marks the first Thanksgiving we will not be together, although there's always tomorrow or the next day. I will leave our table set for another day or two. With dementia, rules, traditions, and expectations collect dust like forgotten toys in the attic.
What matters today is our visit.
What matters today is the love.
What matters today is I am here for her.
Be present, don't miss the moments, smile, breathe and go slow~