by Andrea: Letting go of control is a big topic of conversation amongst so many of us who are striving to live a more balanced and conscious life. We live in a world with so much going on, so much change, and so much uncertainty, that letting go of control may not only become a requirement in order for us to stay sane and grow, but we might find that it’s one of the hardest demands confronting us.
Philosophical and heartfelt reflections on caring for elderly parents
Welcome!
by Judy: Yesterday was a year since my mom had a stroke. Dates like that stick in your consciousness. For awhile, it was very intense. It was like an earthquake that shook my mom’s whole being – months when she could not settle down – not sleeping through the night and in a lot of agitation, physically and emotionally.
by Andrea: What does it mean to really see each other? To see not just the surface of who we are, but to see more deeply into the interior of who we truly are? And what does this mean when it comes to our elderly and loved ones with memory loss?
by Judy: I recently re-read “Fireweed” a political autobiography by the late Dr. Gerda Lerner, who was a pioneer in women’s history. She was also a courageous woman, a refugee from Nazi Austria who in her life and writings “fought” discrimination and fascism in all its forms.
by Andrea: Some say that touch is the most powerful of all the senses. I’m not sure if that’s always true, but it probably depends on the context. Our senses seem to work together in concert, and certain senses come to the fore depending on what is needed. As I reflect on my elderly mother and one of my sisters who has Alzheimer’s, I am aware of how important the sense of touch has become in my relationship with each of them.
by Judy: At one time in my life I was a Buddhist practitioner and loved hearing stories about the Buddha, the fully enlightened one. One of the stories I loved hearing was how the Buddha taught his students by what is called skillful means which meant that he would use different practices and techniques for different students depending upon their temperament, background and particular weaknesses. I thought of that recently after reading an article in The New York Times...
by Judy: Each week after I've written an essay I have no idea what I will write about next and every time something emerges. I begin to think that when the intention and interest are there, material comes – sometimes out of the smallest stimuli. The stimuli this time was a simple trip taken to Loehmann’s department store.
by Andrea: This week I want to share a short and beautiful video from "soul biographies." It expresses a daughter's rare love for her mother who has Alzheimers. It is a love that peers beyond the loss of memory and words. It is a pure love, but not an easy path. To me, she offers some light to those of us who share this difficult journey of having a loved one with dementia.
by Judy: This past week has been quite momentous as my mom reached the ripe age of 97. Given that she had a stroke almost ten months ago, in some ways it is quite miraculous that she is still here. So much has happened since the stroke and I have much to be grateful for. I have a small crew of caregivers - all from Jamaica; loving, caring and really good people.
by Andrea: As I think about this question of "could I have done more" I'm aware that part of me panics. Of course I could have done more. A lot more. But I don’t think this is the most useful response. I think Judy's question is aimed to a deeper place within us, a place where there is no panic at all—even if we could have done a lot more.
by Judy: At one point in my last blog post I wrote about contemplating whether I had left any stone unturned, words unsaid with my mom after taking leave of her for six days with the sense one never knows what the future brings. One woman whose father had recently died responded, “No matter how aware you are of the fact it 'could' happen, it is still a shock and you still feel like you didn't do all that you wanted to do with that person.”
by Andrea: It is difficult to write this week without acknowledging the agony that has gripped the heart of Boston after the Marathon bombing last Monday. As a native Bostonian myself, it all felt so surreal, painful and confusing. As I watched local news when the law enforcement was honing in on the second suspect, I saw in the background the Town Diner where I take my mother regularly for lunch. The final drama took place not far from where my mother lives, only 5 miles away.
by Judy: On the way to the airport to go up north for six days, I felt my usual pangs of separation heightened by my mom’s frequent teary response whenever I say good-bye. The pangs don’t last long, but especially when just leaving I have that sinking feeling in my heart. This time I caught myself thinking, “It’s only six days Judy and you’ll be back soon.”
by Andrea: My mother moved into an assisted living community last November. If you have been following this blog, you will know that I fought like crazy to prevent this. I did everything possible to keep her at home, where she wanted to be and where I felt was the most natural place for her to live her remaining years. The idea of assisted living frightened me.
