My mom, a kind and gentle person, not perfect, not superhuman in any way but a good and decent woman, a great mother and friend died on August 14, on her half birthday. She was 96.5 years old. It had been coming for some time. The machine was breaking down, and so was her sense of herself. Dementia is a strange thing. It takes little bits of you and reorders them or steals them so that it is difficult to plot your way through a conversation or possibly you become anxious or scared at nothing. Mom wasn't like that. She was an independent thinker and while very conservative person in her habits, accepted people as they were, and liked them. After getting the call that my mom had gone, I drove over and sat with her for a couple hours, waiting for the funeral home to come. It was a lonely visit. She was there and not there. The piece of furniture that she had inhabited was there but she wasn't. I hope that she wasn't uncomfortable or confused by what happened. I hope that she knew we were there and that she was very much loved by many. Maybe none of that matters. My brothers and sister were all there the day she slipped into the spiral. The last time she was conversant was when all four of her children were there with her. Dean went home to Spokane but the rest of us and our cousin took turns sitting with her. Most of her grandchildren saw her in this state. Occasionally she would open her eyes and make some effort at yes and no answers. At one point after being asleep for hours, I came in with one of my sons, who shares a name with my long dead father- I said to her :"Hey mom, Ned's here" and her eyes popped open. Did she think her long lost love was there to take her home? Was she disappointed that it was just her skinny grandson? I love you mom. Good bye.
