Happy Mother's Day

My Mother is the first one to introduce me to coffee as a little girl. Naturally, I don't quite remember the how or the when but I do remember asking to dunk my cookies in her coffee. It was one way she taught me patience because though she always said yes, I would have to wait til she got to the last gulp. Then, she would hand over the last bit of coffee and allow me to dunk my cookies and finish the remaining drops of joe. Her reasoning was sound: she didn't want crumbs in her coffee. And being her youngest child, she knew by then that crumbs came with kids dunking cookies.

It's a fond memory. I still love coffee and I still love to dunk into my hot coffee. The thing is, I don't mind the crumbs. They take me back to a version of my Mother that I love to recall.

My Mom is teaching me patience in a new kind of way these days. She has dementia. I absolutely hate to put that into writing and print. It seems so foreign to her, really. She was always one to remember dates, and thoughtfully remember others with cards and kindnesses. When she was first diagnosed, she expressed to me that "it's a terrible thing to lose your mind". I reminded her that she was losing her memory not her mind-- which is equally terrible but a bit different in nuance.

All said, she asks many repeated questions. She moves very slowly now. She can't find her words. She is 90 years of a well-lived life she barely remembers. I am asked and required to wait; be patient and sit with her in the in-between of earth and heaven. It's crummy some days. But not the kind of sweet crumbs in hot coffee, but rather, the 'long good bye' and the morsels of sorrow in seeing her fade.

They say that dementia is the 'long good bye'. This year, I have written two poems to describe my Mother and our interaction with her illness. Every time I visit, we sing hymns. She remembers every word. Recently, she has been speaking of her late parents and enjoying the songs about heaven more. This may be my last Mother's Day with my Mom. I don't know. We never know.

But as the words of both of my poems echo, 'when she will at last close her eyes to the world', 'I'll know, the time with her was so very short.'

I'll grab my cup of coffee, dunk cookies and remember the woman who was ever so patient with me. The one who taught me to wait. My dear Mother, you won't read or remember this but Happy Mother's Day! I love you!

---

Written in January...

She Knew Me First

She knew me first

I'll know her last

My mother, forgetful

But more than that

Slowly fading

Her mind bidding goodbye

In a thousand different ways

Oh, she remembers

How much she likes dessert

Ice cream in summer

Hot chocolate in winter

She remembers

Home,

Her Mother and Dad

--29 Franklin Street--

Where she lived or visited

Over 50 years of her life

And yet, me

Over 50 years old

And she forgets sometimes

The history we held

My name, my children

Her place in our life

But then we sing

And our voices remind us

To harmonize

We sing, in unison

Striking chords like only Mother

And daughter can hold

Then it slips again

From her hands

The memory, the thought, the word

Her grasp loosening --

And I think

But she knew me first

The morning sickness

Waking her

The flutter of little feet

She knew me

Before I opened my eyes

To the world

Before any of my memories

Were words

She wrote them down for me in a baby book

And here I am

Holding her hand

Telling her things 'she never knew'

Reciting back her stories

Giving her back her words

Remembering for her

Remembering her, for me

My grasp loosening --

And I think

But I'll know her last

The quiet look

Watching her sleep

Her gait, weak; frail

I know her

When she will at last close her eyes

To the world

After all our memories are made

No more words spoken

I'll write them down in a book

I'll remember her ever so fondly

My beautiful Mother

I'll know her last,

But she knew me first.

CJZ:ss

11:46pm

1.21.26

Written in April...

They Say

They say it's the long goodbye

But she's met me for the first time

Dozens of times

In the same visit

The shortest hello

They say she has her good days

But the best of days in this time

Pale to the best of her in times past

She's not the same

The good days, shorter

They say she likes to eat dessert first

And I would agree

Wholeheartedly

The sweetest things should be savored

And life is short

I say, she's a good woman

My Mother

Every time we meet I love her more

Her memory makes no difference to me

The love, it's long

We both remember that

'Jesus is the sweetest name we know'

And that 'when we all get to heaven'

We will rejoice

She longs for an eternal home

They say it's the long goodbye

A demented fate of forgetting

But when we say the last goodbye

And I reflect on years with my Mother

I'll know, the time with her was so very

Short.

4.30.26

11:29 pm