It's the typical Murphy's Law, that anyone that I want to remember me doesn't, and therefore it stands to follow that the ones that do, are the ones that shouldn't. I don't mention this out of some pathetic social misfit moment, or a longing for a lost love that has moved on to curvier, or blonder, or more monied pastures. Rather, it is the reality of my mother's Alzheimer's disease that has me thinking of those that have forgotten me, and those that remember.
Now don't navigate away to a page that has pictures of cats in cute poses with ironic sayings just yet. This isn't some maudlin exploration of the tragedy of Alzheimer's. Granted, it is awful stuff, and I'm not too excited about what lies ahead for my mom, my family and me. I'd been working out a plan to go get her from the state she was living in (read that how you will) and move her in with me and my kids. It was just a matter of the timing, to get everything in order for her, them, and me. The added challenge being that as I have been calling her recently to tell her to get her things together, I've realized that each time it is a revelation to her that I am telling her that she's moving, as she's forgotten the last call, even if it's been only the day before. This has made planning even harder, as we have to go through all of the excitement, tears, questions, and planning anew each time. This assured me that whether she or I had everything prepared, I had to drive there right away and get her, for her own safety.
Thinking about mom, and how her mind works now, makes me wonder about my own. For her, of course, the present is a delicate curtain, that tears away at a moment, revealing the past so clearly that she can tell you the name of her first grade teacher and where she sat in his classroom. Conversations are perpetual motion machines, forever turning back on themselves, as she forgets where we began, and therefore end up where we started. But she can tell a story from beginning to end, as long as it took place 50 years ago. She remembers people from all the old chapters of her life, just not the ones that she sees today. The past is present for her in a way that the present cannot be anymore.
So this makes me think...which I probably shouldn't...what will I live out in my old age? What will be my present when my present has passed? I have lost so many people from my life, some on purpose, some just by life getting in the way. Will these people come back to me like my mother's old friends and family have to her? Do I want them to? Do I get to choose the memories that linger and those that are lost forever?
I love my mom, and it will be an honor to care for her at this time when she needs me most. But I have to be honest here: she scares me a little. I don't understand the world she is living in. I don't want to end up living behind that curtain someday. But, I guess if I do, I won't know it, right? That's a little scary, too. Ok, you can go check out those cats now, they're really pretty funny. We all probably need some of those.
