Being 'with" my mother as she fades into dementia is a journey. Resisting any part of it just increases my own suffering.
I have learned this by resisting.
The beautiful moments come now when I visit and try to meet her where she is which could be any place in her life. She time-travels these days but still knows my face and name. It is a daily victory this naming of me. It is a small joy that I take in.
Yesterday, in saying goodbye, varied our salutation routine from "Be careful" to "Take care of things". This was startling in our confined world where a good day is measured on the spoon between the bowl and her mouth.
She is saying goodbye.
And the miracle is I am ok with it.
