On 16 November 2021 I wrote:
Slow but steady progress. At this stage I’m still sort of feeling my way and working out how I’ll do each element of the design.
On Sunday when I talked to Mum she hadn’t realised it was Remembrance Sunday, she said they hadn’t done anything at the home (but she’s not the most reliable witness). When I asked if she was wearing a poppy she just didn’t understand why I was asking her, she couldn’t connect poppies to Remembrance Day.
Dementia is so strange, how it robs people of their memories, of their ability to communicate, of whole parts of their lives, their personalities.
But at another level there is still so much of Mum there, and so much to love. So I try to accept her and love her for who she is each day, and remind her that she is loved, so very loved.
I can’t focus just now on who she was, what is gone already. There will be plenty time for that.
It’s odd coming back to this, three years later; and many months after I last wrote about Mum and her dementia.
So, three years on, Mum has all but disappeared. Certainly it is now almost impossible to see the woman who brought up three kids, who was Provost of our town, who campaigned tirelessly for this local community, who could draw anything, who welcomed so many people into her life, who was so interested in other people, and who could inspire a room full of people when she spoke. Mum used to lay a wreath on behalf of the town council at the War Memorial. And now….
These days, sometimes she wakes when I visit her, and she occasionally smiles at whatever I am knitting, and very, very occasionally says a few words. She may or may not know who I am, but I think she is aware that I am someone who loves her. And if not, then I tell her. I tell her over and over again. For she will forget as soon as I say a thing, that has been her life for several years now.
It was the Remembrance Day Service on Sunday, at the War Memorial which is just a few yards from our home. The day was drizzly but not too cold. So, having thought about wearing Mum’s Karakul fur coat (which she used to wear only to the Remembrance Day Parade and to funerals in the cold winter) I decided against it. I’m guessing that damp Karakul would not be the nicest thing, though perhaps our dogs would love it. I have wondered if perhaps I should dispose of the coat… but since it probably belonged to my great grandmother so no animals died for it in my lifetime, I think perhaps it would be ok to wear it, as Mum did, at funeral and Remembrance Day services when it is so cold you can’t feel your fingers.
At the end of the service on Sunday, when the wreaths had all been laid, we’d had Flowers of the Forest on the bagpipes, and the Last Post on the trumpet; the colours had been raised again, the Minister spoke, ending with ‘WE WILL REMEMBER THEM’. At that precise moment we all heard a ‘whup whup whup’ noise above us, coming up from the High Street. It was one of the swans, giving us a perfectly timed fly past, Gatehouse-style.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
We will remember them.
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Thank you for reading this.
Mostly I blog about my relationship with Mum and her dementia, so if that might be your thing, then you could start here at Taking smock of the Situation. Or just dip in. After all, if I’ve learned anything this last few years it’s that chronology and time are less important than we might believe.
Do get in touch if you have any questions or comments – I love to hear from you my lovely readers.
Shewolfinthevalley 