Well my dears, it’s been a while, but here I am again.
Busy, you know. Thinking of you all but just plain busy. Things may be turning a corner soon though. Hope springs eternal.
This weekend the clocks changed, by which I mean we agreed as a nation to move from British Summer Time to Greenwich MeanTime, the real time by which the world spins. So tonight we ate dinner with the dark night looming outside instead of merely fading light. And this year for the first time in my memory my mother didn’t remark upon nights drawing in. It was a tradition almost, that every year when the clocks changed she would mourn the loss of light in the evenings.
This year she is unaware of the change. By this token is her decline measured.
This weekend I finally caught up with the Internet – it seems to have managed without me for the last couple of weeks. Who knew that could happen; I had been concerned.
Anyway I came across a quote by Robin Williams:
When we completed dinner without the obligatory nod to winter’s imminence, I realised that in a way we were both alone. And that the pain of living with a relative with dementia is that you live with someone who makes you feel alone, because they are no longer present with you.
I’m sorry this is rather depressing to share. I have much to be thankful for regarding my mother. We are able to provide care for her that allows her to be happy. She is not aggressive or hard to deal with. She is cheerful most of the time. She eats well and asks for very little. You can make her smile just by saying hello.
But when we sit together in a room, neither of us has anyone sitting with us.
John Donne claimed no man was an island, but perhaps dementia makes islands of us all.
May you enjoy the presence of loved ones, even those who are far away but can phone or email or tweet.