My mum is 80 – that’s a lot of years really. Especially if you think about all the things that have been invented in those years, and also the events that have taken place…Televisions, Video, DVD’s, CD’s, Computers, Pagers, Cell Phones, iPads …….Medical cures for so many diseases…………. World War 2, Vietnam, Korea, Gulf War, Iraq War, Nazis, Taliban, IRA……Rock and Roll, Blues, Big Band, Punk Rock, C & W, Rap, Alternative……..Washing Machines, Dryers, Vacuum Cleaners, Microwaves….sounds like a Billy Joel song….
Pretty amazing really isn’t it? She has witnessed so much in her lifetime, and slowly it is all slipping away. Her memory is breaking apart, little by little, one synapse at a time. She has approximately 10 billion of them, so it will take a while for them to disappear, but disappear they will. Mum remembers who we all are, but she has forgotten events that have occurred over time. She also forgets days of the week, what she ate for breakfast and where she puts anything of importance. Money really has no value anymore because she has what she needs, and she spends a lot of time playing her favourite game of Solitaire with a little deck of cards.
It is really strange to spend time with someone that looks the same but doesn’t act the same. It is as though the spirit of their childhood has come to reclaim their minds, as though the hand of fate has stopped the clock and begun to go backwards. They have this sweet vulnerability about them that tugs at your heart, and the capacity to infuriate you just like a mischievous child. At first it makes you cry because you miss who they used to be so much! But then you realize that they are still living, still breathing, and you feel very lucky to have them here. Yet she is happy, there are occasional outbursts of frustration when she can’t remember something, or irrational mood swings that blow up like a quick storm and abate within moments. But there are also big toothy grins when you give her something she coveted, or buy her something to wear. She is my mother, and it was from her that I learned many of the traits that have defined the woman I have become. I find myself alternating between sadness and amusement, because my mother has a wonderful self-image now. Although she sees the ravages of age when looking at her reflection in the mirror, once she looks away she is again pretty, skinny, funny, has a savvy sense of fashion, and never afraid to say anything to anybody. My mum thinks men are hot, she likes getting her bottom pinched and instead of sleeping in pyjamas she looks like a teenager when she is dressed for bed. It is a sad death of all those synapses, one that is so hard to witness, yet she is in no pain. She laughs, she dances, she loves, she lives!
Jude the daughter