When I asked about Dad: \u201cHow about my dad, Ken Gallagher? Remember him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh yes,\u201d she smiled. \u201cWe traveled all over the world. We met the queen!\u201d Gone were the bitter memories of their divorce 40 years ago, with the ugly, protracted legal and financial battle they waged. I heard her complain about that divorce for at four decades \u2013 but with Alzheimer\u2019s, not a hint of resentment lingered.<\/p>\n
For the last six or seven years, Mom had nary a bad word to say about anyone \u2013 her ex, her siblings, her parents, or neighbors and friends who hurt her feelings. What a blessing to have all those unhappy memories, old resentments, and negative feelings completely wiped away \u2013 leaving only warm, happy, joyful memories in their place.<\/p>\n
The Gift of Laughter.<\/strong> I don\u2019t recall my mother being particularly funny before she got Alzheimer\u2019s \u2013 but she sure got funny with the disease. I recall one day I arrived to feed her lunch and asked, \u201cHi Ma, how do you feel?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWith my hands,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Another time, I picked up her glass of juice and put the drinking straw in her mouth. But instead of sucking on the straw, she blew into it, making the juice bubble over all over the place. I shrieked \u201cAck!\u201d at the surprise \u2026 and she laughed so hard she had tears rolling down her cheeks. My mother, the prankster.<\/p>\n Sometimes she\u2019d get really quiet, leading me to think she\u2019s drifted off into her own world. Then suddenly she\u2019d say, \u201cBoo!\u201d If she succeeded in starling me she flashed a big grin \u2013 quite pleased with herself for shaking things up.<\/p>\n My mother, it seems, had become quite the entertainer.<\/p>\n The Blessing of Giving Back.<\/strong> Mom\u2019s illness gave me the opportunity to reciprocate the love and generous support she\u2019d given me. She was always my biggest fan, my best cheerleader, and the source of financial help on more than one occasion. I wouldn\u2019t be a writer today if it weren\u2019t for my mother\u2019s help. I wouldn\u2019t own a house today if not for her. Up until she got Alzheimer\u2019s, I had no way to pay her back for the help she gave me.<\/p>\n Her illness gave me that opportunity. I could be her companion, her witness, her comforter and soother. At long last, I had a way to reciprocate her generosity, support, and unconditional love.<\/p>\n The Gift of Time.<\/strong> When a loved one dies suddenly and unexpectedly, there is no time to say good-bye, no time to create a few final memories. But with the glacial pace at which Alzheimer\u2019s moved, I had over ten years to create more wonderful memories of Mom.<\/p>\n A few weeks ago, the hospice nurse Miriam came to check on Mom while I was feeding her lunch. \u201cHow come you smiled at Miriam when she came today, Mom, but you didn\u2019t smile at me?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cI smile at you all<\/em> the time,\u201d Mom replied.<\/p>\n Sweet memory now that she\u2019s gone.<\/p>\n And just last week while we were sitting quietly after lunch, she looked at me, puckered her lips, and blew me an air kiss. \u201cMy love,\u201d she said softly. My heartfelt like it would burst when she did things like that.<\/p>\n
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