Tension

As I'm learning more about Alzheimer's through my mother's progression through it, I am learning more about writing fiction. I can write about our experiences with a passion. How can I not when this emotional rollercoaster continues to peak higher and lower all the time. And how would I hurt inside if I didn't have gift enough to put the words down somewhere so I can release them, release the anger that overtakes me when my mother chooses a time to jump all over me about something. And a few minutes later she has no idea what I'm talking about when I say, "I don't want to fight with you any more, Mom."

I stopped blogging here. Notice the date of my last post, a year ago this month. It seemed wrong for me to spell out the privacy of my mother's life in such a public display. My intentions were to reach out to other caregivers, other family members, even those with AD who are in the earlier stages and CAN remember.

No one can know the full sorrow of AD until they have experienced it. I have grieved. And told myself that my grieving is done so I can do what needs to be done. The friends at the AD support group online say my mother is gone. But I can see that she still plays peek-a-boo with me. Some days she remembers things. Some days she has trouble. She still knows our names, though.

I ask, "Where do we go from here?" but I think I don't really want to know. I think I prefer to take one day at a time. That's best, one day at a time.