Waiting For My Daughter

I approached the red brick building as I'd done several hundred times before.  Why does it seem different this time?  Everything looked the same as always. The neatly trimmed lawn, picturesque flower garden, and people enjoying the sun-drenched day were the same. Every Sunday was nearly a carbon copy of the one that came before.

I couldn't help thinking it was because Mother's condition was declining. I never knew what to expect during my weekly visits. Alzheimer's was stealing her memory at an ever-increasing pace.

Some days she was fine, and other days she seemed agitated and restless, not recognizing her surroundings. I cringed at the memory of last week's visit.

"Carrie, you have to take me home," she pleaded.  "Who's going to take care of your father?"

Here we go again. If I've told her once, I've told her a hundred times. "Mom, you know Dad's dead." Frustration made the words sound harsh even to me.

"Dead? Oh, my God! What happened?" She cried inconsolably, just as she had the day he died ten years ago.

The nurse shook her head softly. "Don't try to snap her back to reality.  It only confuses her more."  She'd said those words many times.

"I just don't understand how can she believe my father is alive and well when he's been dead for ten years?"

"Mrs. Snyder, it's the nature of Alzheimer's. First it steals your short-term memory, then it transports you to the past. I'll give her something to calm her down, but you must understand she's not going to believe you when you contradict something she believes is real. It only upsets her and makes her more confused. You need to try to accept her as she is now, and go along with her concept of the present. You'll both be happier in the long run."

"I know you're right, but I simply haven't been able to do it.  I keep thinking she'll snap out of it if I can convince her of the truth, but it obviously isn't working."

"You've tried it your way.  Why don't you give our way a try?"

I'd spent the past few months trying to mentally preparing myself to follow the advice I'd been given, but now I was determined to do it.  Go with the flow, Carrie, go with the flow.

A sweet old lady's smile snapped me back to my own reality. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Ferrante. How are you today?" I asked the eighty-something woman, who sat in her usual spot just inside the front entrance.

"Just fine, dear. I'm waiting for my daughter. Did you happen to see her?"

"No, but I'm sure she'll be here soon."

"You're such a devoted daughter. I've almost given up on mine."

"Perhaps she'll come today, Mrs. Ferrante," I said, with as much of a smile as I could muster, knowing her only daughter was deceased.

The elderly woman sighed heavily. "Perhaps she will." She waved her frail hand in my direction as my feet began their weekly trek to the locked Alzheimer's unit.

My mother sat quietly in her room, looking toward the door as if expecting me. A smile crept across her face as she saw me enter.  Thank God, she's in a good mood today.

I grinned at her. "My, what a lovely smile you're wearing today. Is it a special occasion?"

"Yes, it is. My daughter's coming to visit me today. She hasn't been here in a long while and I can't wait to see her."

In that brief moment I knew; my beloved mother was lost to me forever. No longer the daughter she knew and loved, I stood before her as a stranger. Her bright smile faded as she saw the distress on my face.

"What's the matter, honey? Did I say something to upset you?"

Go with the flow, Carrie.

"No," I lied, brushing away the tears. "It's just that you remind me so much of my mother. She's gone now, and I miss her so much. Do you mind if I stay awhile and visit with you?"

"Of course not, dear, stay as long as you like. I'll introduce you to my daughter when she comes. I know you'll like her.  She's such a sweet girl."

"My name is Carrie."

"How lovely.  That's my daughter's name, too."

"Tell me all about her, Mom.  I ... I mean, Mrs. Campbell." 

"It's okay. You can call me Mom if you want to." She patted my hand as her blue eyes danced.

"Thank you ... Mom."