Happy Moments in Time

Gidgey lost her front tooth!  She looks so different and cute.  It's a big milestone in her life.  She's 7 and she never will be again.  We love her so much.  She is so goofy and jumpy and darling and smart. We took pictures and laughed.  She made a note to the tooth fairy and brushed her teeth, and now she can't pronounced f's or th's.  Looking at her makes me smile.  I wish my Mom was here.  I wish we could call her like we did her other grandparents.  I think to myself, "Nana would love this!"  These are her type of moments.

Of course, we can call her. She's here...alive. Yet she's completely unaware of anything new.  Life, for all intents and purposes, has stopped for her. She's missing these special moments that become our most precious memories and help us deal with the passage of time.  Soon a big new tooth will grow in the empty space and Gidget will be 8 years old. Then 9. And 10...

I haven't been able to share anything new with Peggy for years now. Knowing that she can't enjoy these simple things is what made me sad tonight as I gazed into that bright, shining, toothless face.  I can tell her about them and make believe that she somehow understands.  I guess it's just hard wishing someone was here, when they are.

Adjusting Altitudes and Attitudes

"Dawn" gouache on paper, Lois Keller

From those last depressing posts you can see what our life is like with Alzheimer's.  It's up and down, sunup and sundown.  I have a wonderful life, I have a wonderful mother.  She is still here, and she wouldn't want me moping about and worrying and complaining. She would want me busy, so I am busy, and I am happy, and walked the dogs with my little girl this morning, the way she used to walk with me when I was little.   Alzheimer's Disease does something strange to time,  it becomes no longer linear, but all surrounding.  So today I have a new attitude of positivity, of love, and hope.  I wear my #endalz shirt when I'm busy and not with Peggy, so I can remember that having Alzheimer's in my family is special, and that we have a role to play in finding a cure.

Me, working in the kitchen sporting my #endalz T-shirt!

Just a minute...

I don't mean "just a minute", or "I'll be there in a minute," which we know is longer than 60 seconds and usually means, "I don't really feel like doing that right now."  

What I mean is that even a minute of my time can be enough.  I'm loving Peggy again with a full heart.  I've been stopping by more frequently, for less amount of time.  The last three times have been good.  I like to hug her, let her know I'm there.  She lights up.  A minute to her could mean an eternity, a day, a month, maybe a second, who knows?  It's just that I happen to be living in real time, filled with children, friends, work, chores and there never seems to be enough hours in the day, let alone minutes.  But, when I stop by on my way from this or that to see how she is, I find the real value of a mere minute,  by her smile.

She's still my Mom, and seems as though I'm still learning about life from her.

One block away

I've been working at the pre-school one block away from Peggy's house.  Knowing she is right there inspired me to paint this little mural of us reading under a tree.  We used to always go on picnics at Cantigny in Wheaton, IL
Anyway, I've been able to stop by quite often and at different times of day and night. Not that time has any meaning there.   It's nice to be able to say hello and goodbye more often, even though she always gets mixed up.   I say hello and she says goodbye.  Hey isn't that  another great Beatles song?

Remembering me and Peggy

a lot of help!

Sometimes I have a little help