Here But Gone

To watch a parent fade away before your eyes is an experience that I would not wish
on my worst enemy. I have already spoken about my Mom and how she has dementia.
I hate that word. I really hate that word. It doesn't convey the heartache and agony that
it brings. You don't come back from it. If you have it, you just slowly drift farther away
from your loved ones and you don't even know it. The bad days start to outnumber the
good days and then what used to be the bad days become the good days. I know what
is coming with Mom because I saw my great-grandfather go through this also. I was only
12 when he died but I remember him as a mostly silent man that always stood in the corner
and he asked the same joke over and over. I didn't get to know him as he was before the
strokes and dementia stole him from us. I'm told he was a wonderful man; hardworking,
strong, loving and wise. I wish I could have known that man.

Since I was adopted by my grandparents, I'm going through this about 20 or 30 years
before my friends will go through this.It makes it hard to be able to talk to anyone about
how I am feeling. I mostly bottle it up inside and try not to think about it very much. But
there are times I can't shut it out and it just washes over me like a raging river, sweeping
me along in it's path. This usually happens after I go visit her. So many emotions flood
my heart and mind that some just manage to seep out.

Sadness and hate are the two biggest emotions that torment me. I am sad that she has
to go through this. I hate that my dad has to watch his wife go through this after having
to watch his father being stolen away in the same way. My heart aches at the fact we
had to put her in a nursing home. I hate the fact that I can't take care of her the way she
took care of me for so many years. I am sad that when I look at my mom all I can see
is a shell of the person she used to be. I hate that the strong, intelligent, fierce woman
I have always known has been reduced to a mostly silent person that roams the halls
in her wheelchair. I hate the fact the the strokes robbed her of  her love of words. She
tries to talk but we can't understand most of it and that makes her frustrated. Then she
just shuts down and stares at the floor or goes to sleep. Most of all, I hate that I can't
fight this and save her. I wish I could just wave a magic wand or say some words and
she would be the way she was but life doesn't work like that.

I have so many regrets. I wish I wasn't such an unholy little terror when I was younger.
I put most of those grey hairs on her head. I wish I had been more grateful and had
showed her how much I loved her more than I did. As I grew older, I should have
visited more and not have been so caught up in my own life. I wish I had kids so
that they could have known her as she was and not as she is now. I wish I could
have done more with my life so she would be proud of me. She always told me that
I could be anything if I just tried hard enough. And here I am with no job and feeling
like I have wasted my life. She had faith and me and I feel like I let her down.

The worst part is that I know this can go on for years and years. She will slip away
ever so slowly and I am helpless to do anything to stop it. I'll become the nice
stranger that comes and visits her and nothing more.