And here it is, that date. Nine Eleven. It’s a date I have dreaded for a while.
A year ago, my mother passed away, on the eleventh of September. She had suffered with Alzheimer’s for years. It’s a foul, disgusting disease, both for the bewildered victims and for those who know exactly what is happening.
The thing is, my mom was supposed to be that old lady who would drive us all around in her VW bus around Ireland and Arizona into her nineties. She was one of the first people to keep an organic farm in our town. She was an English professor, and there were always one or two students huddled around our kitchen table, chatting about Joyce or Yeats or sophistry.
Her speaking voice was incredibly beautiful. For years she read poetry professionally. Her tour de force was the section in The Waste Land spoken in a pub, in a cockney accent. For my 21st birthday she took me, my sister, and our friend to Paris. We stayed in a cheap boarding house on the Left Bank. It’s still my favorite part of the city.
Was she perfect? No, in italics. Her temper shook our house at times and drove my sister and me to our rooms. I swore that once I saw dragon smoke arise from her nostrils, during one of those rages.
She studied at Trinity College, in Dublin. She backpacked around Italy. She volunteered at a birdwatching center. To watch all of that personality and intelligence ebb away was pure torture.
The night she finally ended her long fight was very peaceful. A full moon hung outside the window, kept open by the wonderful nurses at Mum’s final home. A slight breeze blew the curtains outward. My sister and I sat there and chatted and wept, while our kids played and decorated Granny’s bed with the stuffed animals and teddy bears she always had with her in her last years.
It was exactly the type of passage she would have chosen for herself. There were no tubes, no machines, and no drugs beyond those that kept her in a simple sleep.
“Her diminished size is in me, not in her…” There are many others who sense that same thing as autumn begins. They lost friends and fathers and sisters on that date, the day years ago that was far more terrible than my own personal Nine Eleven. I can only wish for them a moment of peace, the calm I felt when the moon glowed outside the open window, when the curtains blew in the soft breeze.
And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, “There, she is gone!”
There are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout;
“Here she comes!”
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Beautiful post Alison.
Thank you for sharing these memories with us and our thoughts are with you at this difficult time.
Oh my Alison, your post is more than beautiful. It is a wonderful tribute to a wonderful lady. Many hugs, thoughts and prayers to you.
Thanks so much, David. I think you would have liked her!
Thank you so much for sharing this. The pictures are beautiful but more than that she sounds like a beautiful person.
Just a beautiful post Alison – thanks for sharing. Thinking of you & your family.
I feel the power of your words here. Your mother sounds electric… a powerful life force. I am saddened by the pain you must have endured as you experienced her transformation, and I feel the peace you express as she was released from the disease's hold and freed. What a joy to know that what was amazingly her is also a part of you forever.
This is one of the most beautiful posts. It speaks to me personally, and I am sure it will speak to others.
Oh so beautiful Alison..
I bet she is smiling as she is watching you know. So proud of her daughter and what she has accomplished. May her memories continue to illuminate your life.
What a wonderful tribute to your mom. She must have been a truly special person. Thank you for sharing your (and her) story.
One of the most beautiful tributes I have ever read! I'm verklempt.
Thank you for sharing this post. It is really beautiful and I am sure your mother would be so proud of you. I agree it is a terrible disease, that has caused so many people heartache.
My grandmother also has alzheimer's disease. I find it hard to see her in that condition considering I grew up seeing her as a very strong woman. All I can pray now is for her to stay as healthy as possible for her to live much longer with us.