In memory of my beloved mam ...

Milady A - Thursday, September 24, 2015

Exactly one year and one week ago …

A sunny September afternoon, where nature’s attributes seemed to compete in a beauty contest, I wondered which color would win this autumn and secretly voted for the golden shades of a huge weeping willow I noticed in a lovely rural field along the street I was driving on. As if the universe was whispering into my ear, preparing me, carefully announcing a weeping phase in our life, coming along soon, sneaking into our lives, side by side with the change of seasons.

I was on the road, driving to the rest home to see my mam, and after I’ve got my car parked, I went straight to her table where I could always find her. Since a few months, her condition as Alzheimer patient, seriously went downhill. From a cheerful, joyful lady, always smiling, always laughing, she changed into a shade of the person she used to be. Not only her personality changed, but Mr Alzheimer decided it was time to make her body totally immobilized, as if she hadn’t suffered enough in her life, and literally tied her up to her wheelchair which became her new feet and shoes as she never left that chair again …

She was not there!?

She was not at her usual table in the rest home amongst her Alzheimer friends, which sadly enough seemed to be the best fitting company she could have, each one of them lived in their own lost world but still, they created a bond together, such a special tight bond, as if these friendships were really real, way more real then the type of friendships many people seem to hold on to while they are in full health.

It is remarkable how Mr Alzheimer suddenly sneaks in, like a killer virus, and easily uses his devastating power to change every personality trait, every habit, every single behavior that a woman or a man owned all their life. Not one slight sign of people’s self-protective masks will survive his destructive powers!
Mr Alzheimer obviously finds pleasure in stripping all his patients, until they are totally naked amidst full crowds, probably more naked as they’ve ever been in their whole life. No more masks. No more disguise.

Instantly I was worried stiff as I couldn’t find her.
Change can be so terrifying, especially when Mr Alzheimer is in the room because then change truly is a bad thing!

A few moments later, I found her on the patio of the locked unit in the rest home, the place where the – as they call it – worse Alzheimer patients stay. The ones who scream at night, who run away, who show very aggressive behavior.
Luckily our wonderful mam was part of the – as they call it – the good Alzheimer patients. The ones who stay quiet, who smile all the time, who show friendly, somewhat childlike behavior.

She was sitting in her wheelchair, huddled, eyes closed, and it seemed as if none of her muscles was still vital … it was a dreadful sight for a daughter visiting her mam.
It felt as if there was already no more spark of life in her.

The nurse told me with a smile, and totally untroubled, that I shouldn’t look so worried … that nothing was wrong … that my mam most certainly was not going to die!

Not going to die?!

I knew better … unfortunately … I would have given the world to be wrong, to be a naïve girl at that moment, gullible and always believing what others tell me … unfortunately I am not one of those!
I always know when something is wrong or right … my intuition never lies and never sleeps.

I felt a shiver down my spine … my muscles got tense and instantly I programmed my mind to stay strong for what was next … and fought against my intuitive, deep-seated panic attack that was taking over my mind right then.

I was about to get married in 7 weeks time from then and I was about to lose my mother?


The next week, my sister and I spend our days, from dusk till dawn, beside her bed. Seven long days. Seven emotional days. Seven days to say goodbye to our wonderful mother.

I wonder whether our mother heard us talking … my sister and I … while we were sitting there in that room we decorated for her, talking to each other about our childhood, about our mother, about the love we received and felt right there, … she must have heard us. Undoubtedly.

She woke up only once, on Tuesday morning after three days of comatose condition, I remember that day as if it was yesterday. I arrived that morning, after a night with only a few hours of sleep, and she was sitting up straight in her bed, smiling … oh yes, smiling again, just the way we knew her all her life. A few moments later, my sister arrived, and we received one more moment, one single occasion in our lifetime, to see the captivating smile from our mother, embellished with the invisible intensity of a mother’s love for her two daughters.

She woke up, one more time, to look at us, to smile at us, and to imprint a memory of pure, unconditional love, into our minds forever and always. The minutes, hours and days that followed were all the same. Sitting by her bed, staring at her sleeping face, holding her hand, caressing her arm, touching her hair … gestures of love … and at the same time … gestures of telling her that is was ok for her to go … for her sake … to release her from her suffering … and find peace on the other side of the rainbow …

I badly wanted to be there on the moment she would (have to) leave us, for her, to support her with our love, to assist her on her transition to the other side … however …

Exactly one year ago …

When my sister and I left that evening, after watching her for 12 hours beside her bed, she decided to go on her own

I was told that she unconsciously did this for us … to make this inevitable moment less painful for us … she harnessed her last power in her reach and died on her own to release us from such an unbearable moment in our lives.

She was a mother who devoted her life to love. Giving love to others, even as death looked her in the eye.

She did not give a damn about being the best, or the wealthiest, or the most successful … the only thing that mattered, the one and only thing she lived for, was TO LOVE.

A mother’s love … so deep … so pure … so grand …

I love you mam, my sweet beautiful mam … then … now … and forever!

With love and inspiration,

Milady A


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