After rolling through the Christmas card list, one, my great Aunt Mimi’s, was returned. My mom asked me if I knew where she moved. “Umm, Mom, Aunt Mimi died several years ago.”
Thus began the discussion on the family tree. Over the past few months, I’ve spent hours pulling together and going through both of my parents’ family trees to help provide a visible cue to the family members. These questions have come up a lot over the past two years and having this written down with birth, death and the lineage has been helpful for my parents to re-establish a context to names they know, but just can’t quite place some days.
With four kids in the family, you get used to being called one of your siblings’ names. However, over the past few years, spouses’ names and even the recollection of grandchildren fades in and out. My children are used to getting asked their age at least 3 times every time we visit with my parents. I have gotten over hurt feelings when they don’t remember I visited or called.
The memory loss is obvious to me, but to date, neither one of my parents has been diagnosed (or has shared they were diagnosed) with anything that can explain their mental states. Flummoxed.
In a family I know, there was just one son to take care of two parents – both with dementia (not to mention mom’s sister who was financially dependent on the mom). They have all passed on, now, but it was a very difficult 15-year period for him. I cannot imagine the stress on someone having the weight of caregiving on their shoulders alone.
Have you heard the story about the woman giving a seminar who filled a glass half-full with water, then carried it around the room and challenged her students to guess how much the water weighed? The answer had nothing to do with “half empty” or “half full” – it was: “It depends on how long you’ve been having to carry the glass.”
May you never have to carry that glass alone.
Thankfully, I’m not alone and have 3 siblings who are helping share the load … both emotionally and physically. Releaved.