As my mom’s short-term memory softens, shrinks, and fades, other residents are taking up space in her mind.
Criticism has given way to kindness.
Anxiety has given way to acceptance.
Depression (I think she was, back when she and Dad were still married) has given way to peace.
The middle, when Mom knew what she was losing and was angry and defensive, was hard.
But this?
It’s easy for Mom, and it’s as easy for me as I make it.
Chewing the Cud of Good
Thankful for Mom.
Thanks for any aspect of grace with mental decline. My dad’s mother softened and became kinder during dementia. My dad became more agitated and belligerent, though neither to the extreme. My mother in law’s judgmental nature diminished slightly, though she did frequently pass judgment on the elements of her facility (which was very nice) she didn’t care for. Once, she said, “I don’t know who planned this trip, but this hotel isn’t my favorite.” 🥲
Oh, Mark. I guess if we don’t laugh we cry. “This hotel isn’t my favorite.” I can hear my mom saying that, too. It’s coming.