The Missing Ingredient

There are so many sad moments that are realized as my mother sinks deeper into the progression of Alzheimers – lost words, lost thoughts, forgetting the sound of my voice, being unable to share books and movies anymore – but this last one blindsided me. My mother shares my affinity for the beach, has always loved walking through the waves at the shore and sitting out for hours reading under the hot sun. So when my husband and I searched for our getaway a couple of years ago, it was with the anticipated joy of being able to bring her there and share those moments with her, to give a little back of the many times she brought joy to my life growing up. I didn’t know that by the time we had it set up, she’d be unable to fly on her own any more, and in fact is quite unnerved by the very thought of taking a trip on her own. Going to get her and take her back would require a hefty cost of both time and money, so for those bleeding hearts out there with that thought in their minds, it’s been considered and still sits as a last chance option. She must get here before she forgets who I am, of that I am sure. What I’m not sure of is whether or not she will remember that she loved the beach.