Calling for Mommy
I recently called home and spoke to my mother. We chatted about this and that, what the children were up to and how we were settling in, now that we’re back from the UK. Then I asked to speak to Dad. My mother put the phone down and went to get him. He came on the line.
“See!” he said. “I knew it was Francesca. Your mother said it was Christina.”
My mother picked up the other phone.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Of course you’re Christina,” she said. “You’re the one with the two little ones.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m Francesca, the one with the two little ones.” I laughed a bit, trying to make light of it. “But I answer to anything, really. Hey you is fine.”
My mother laughed a little too. And hung up. I finished with my dad and hung up my end.
Then I sat in the chair, holding the phone. And what I really wanted to do was call my mother, to tell her that my mother didn’t know who I was all the time and that it made me feel sad. I wanted her to comfort me, to tell me that it would be all right and that she would be there for me.
How stupid, I thought, as I clenched my hands around the phone, keeping myself from dialing her number. Knowing she wasn’t really there any more to answer my call.
Oh, my goodness. I’m so very sorry you’re having to face that. Sending you virtual hugs and a virtual martini shared with a circle of girlfriends who know you as well as anyone. (I know it’s no the same. Nothing can be.)
My heart hurts for you so very much.
hmmm… stunts- that is so very tough.
my heart is with you.
(and thanks for coming back, I missed you out here)
I, too, am sending virtual hugs and I, also, am glad you are back.
Glad you’re back from visiting the out-laws. I’m sad to read about your conversation with your mom, but there is a small kernel of happiness there. She still recognized you as her daughter. She still knows there are 2 little ones. And, at least to me, she still conveys how much she loves you. Cherish these small treasures while you can.
wow.
i sat here for a minute or two
after reading that…
trying to absorb…
to feel…
to feel how i would feel…
hugs
Oh dear…how painful. I know what you mean about wanting to call your mom to tell her about how sad you are about your mom. I still think that all the time, and then have that bad moment of reality kick in.
I can’t think of any words that will make it better for you right now – just know we’re all out here thinking of you and sending you our love.
OOOF. I’m so glad you’re back, but sad sad that you have to face your mom’s absence…
Perhaps the part of your mother that loves you will do exactly that -comfort you as you lose your mother. It is, after all, what a loving mother would do. And perhaps you can find comfort in the fact that the mother love that is still there, even though it cannot be expressed in familiar ways. I hope so. I hope somewhere you can find peace of mind.
I went through this with my dad and my mom, though my mom didn’t have Alzheimer’s disease. I know what you are going through. Even though your mom doesn’t remember you name, she loves you and seems to know you are her daughter and the mother of her grandchildren.
Memory ebbs and flows. There is a danger of giving up too soon.I found using pictures was enormously helpful. I scanned in hundreds of old family pictures and made a website for my mom, captioned and arranged in chronological order. It helped enormously.