I haven't been in for a while, partly because it's too painful seeing what you're all still up against, partly because I feel it's healthier for me not to keep checking in, partly because I feel a little like an interloper now that my mother's gone.
Actually, though, I missed having somewhere private but safe to visit late at night when the thoughts keep you from sleeping, so I thought I'd just check in and share a few thoughts and feelings.
I thought that grieving after Alzheimer's might be easier than this, thought that grief for a mother who'd lived for 96 years would be less profound. And of course it is infinitely less cruel than for a younger person, of course it is. Yet still, it's hard getting over it all. Hardest of all, the last period of pain and suffering in the hospital, and the inadequate treatment, but those memories are beginning to fade just a little, their onslaught coming less frequently, and eventually I hope they'll go almost altogether. Except they were the last weeks with her, and there were those precious loving moments to cherish, too, so I don't want to let them go completely.
Then the great slab of the Alzheimer years - and before that, the real person, the real memories.
It's kept hard, of course, because of the clearing out of her possessions and the selling of the flat and all the other stuff that has to happen.
We're going away for the weekend - no concerns about leaving, no worries about what to tell her or not to. All that freedom, but that doesn't feel as great as I thought it might either.
Time, of course, will heal, and is already doing that to an extent. And still, just a touch of that good old, damned old, guilt that so many of us experience. It makes me smile, though, the thought that I could be ridiculous enough still to feel guilt now.
Most of all, though, I do feel love, and a yearning to know that she's okay, perhaps with her beloved husband, being taken care of. Not for us to know, I accept that. But we can still hope.
I think I probably won't post any more. Too many of you with real, NOW, problems to talk over, and it's self-indulgent of me to take up your time. Yet I suppose we'll all come to this time sooner or later, so I hope you won't mind.
All very, very good wishes to you all.
Jeannette
Actually, though, I missed having somewhere private but safe to visit late at night when the thoughts keep you from sleeping, so I thought I'd just check in and share a few thoughts and feelings.
I thought that grieving after Alzheimer's might be easier than this, thought that grief for a mother who'd lived for 96 years would be less profound. And of course it is infinitely less cruel than for a younger person, of course it is. Yet still, it's hard getting over it all. Hardest of all, the last period of pain and suffering in the hospital, and the inadequate treatment, but those memories are beginning to fade just a little, their onslaught coming less frequently, and eventually I hope they'll go almost altogether. Except they were the last weeks with her, and there were those precious loving moments to cherish, too, so I don't want to let them go completely.
Then the great slab of the Alzheimer years - and before that, the real person, the real memories.
It's kept hard, of course, because of the clearing out of her possessions and the selling of the flat and all the other stuff that has to happen.
We're going away for the weekend - no concerns about leaving, no worries about what to tell her or not to. All that freedom, but that doesn't feel as great as I thought it might either.
Time, of course, will heal, and is already doing that to an extent. And still, just a touch of that good old, damned old, guilt that so many of us experience. It makes me smile, though, the thought that I could be ridiculous enough still to feel guilt now.
Most of all, though, I do feel love, and a yearning to know that she's okay, perhaps with her beloved husband, being taken care of. Not for us to know, I accept that. But we can still hope.
I think I probably won't post any more. Too many of you with real, NOW, problems to talk over, and it's self-indulgent of me to take up your time. Yet I suppose we'll all come to this time sooner or later, so I hope you won't mind.
All very, very good wishes to you all.
Jeannette