Remembering Mom

Thirteen years ago today, my mother, Hazel Emma Myers, lost her fight against Alzheimer's.  I miss her every single day. but at least I have ( sort of) stopped wanting to call her when something really good happens, or when something happens where I could really use her advice.  I "talk" to her all the time, hoping somehow she can hear me. My faith that I will see her again does help.

She would have loved the heck out of my husband and I think the two of them would have got on like a house on fire, as the saying goes.  I have no idea WHY they say that but there it is.  She would have been as thick as thieves with my mother-in-law, Anna.  I can hear the two of them plotting something fun.  It's both a comfort and a sorrow to imagine the scenarios.

I remember her teaching me to spell the word Wednesday  "WED NEZZZ Day"  I hear it when I spell it, like just now.

I remember being about six and the two of us running from the garage, through the gate and into the house to catch the last bit of my favorite song "The Cat Came back"  It was a silly novelty song and I will have to see if I can find it on Youtube today.

I remember her being in charge of membership of the PTA at Sharp Avenue and all  of us writing     50 ¢ in the little space on the envelope.  She taught me about volunteering and community involvement.  She joined the teachers on the picket line in front of my school in my sixth grade year.  I was proud of her.  I wonder if I ever told her that..

I remember the morning after I announced my engagement to my first husband, getting up for school (I was in college) to find she had two complete plans for our wedding.  She thrust them at me and I said "Mom, can I get a cup of coffee first?"  I seem to have inherited her planning gene.

I remember her holding her six day old granddaughter on the couch in my living room, she and Kate bonding, a love that lasts in my daughter still.

I remember us laughing in her kitchen  when I made her her first mimosa. I have the photo on my desk of us kidding around with the empty champagne bottle.

I remember her telling us, at Christmas, that she had Alzheimer's and would not remember any of us next year, but that she wanted us to know that she loved us

I remember taking her on a picnic and giving my now childlike mother her sandwich, which she ate.  quickly. I was still giving out the rest of the sandwiches when she demanded "where's MINE"  We had to tell her she had eaten it. I asked her if she were still hungry, figuring she could have mine. but she looked down and said no.

I remember holding her hand the day before she died and telling her she could go.  She wasn't eating or drinking and we could feel the presence of those she loved who had crossed over who were urging her to join them.  She looked pointedly at my father, her husband of 54 years and the love of her life. I promised her we would take care of him.  She had not said a word in weeks, but later she looked at me and said "How did I get like this?"  It startled me, but I said "You just got sick, Mom. That's all"  "oh.  she said  "what a mess"  and shook her head sadly.  She died the next day, surrounded by us all.

I don't need to tell you that Alzheimer's is a terrible disease.  It stole my brilliant mother from us piece by piece.  I see the Alzheimer's Association is talking about finding the first survivor.  I hope they do and soon.  Thirteen years later I still feel the pain it caused.