until she called me by name. Yet, she asked about my husband right away. During the eight days I was there, Ruth continually spoke of the past, but it was about things that never happened. She had no memory of the loss of her son who had passed away in February 2007. In fact, she was always wondering why he didn’t at least call if he couldn’t come home. Many times, thinking she was asleep, I would discover that she had filled plastic grocery bags with items out of her bathroom or bedroom, even to the point of taking blankets off her bed. There was no rhyme or reason to her selection of things that she was taking “with her as soon as someone came to pick her up.” She refused to believe she was in her own home but was either in a hospital or a motel.
It was a sad situation, and I really hated to leave her.
Two weeks after I arrived home, I got the call that Ruth had to be put into a nursing home. Soon after, she lost her vision, forgot how to chew and didn’t remember how to drink through a straw. Having signed a waiver of artificial means of support to keep her alive, Ruth soon wasted away, and on June 1, she quietly and peacefully slipped away into eternity.
In order to rid myself of the memory of my last days with her, I try to recall the wonderful things about her. She was the sister who lovingly tried to convince me to give up my bottle at age 4, when my brothers relentlessly teased me. She was the one who carried me to a neighbor’s house after my feet got so cold waiting for the school bus that I cried. She was the sister who lost three fingers on her left hand while working in a factory in Baltimore. Her wedding ring had to be worn on the right hand, but she accepted her handicap and could work circles around many who had two complete hands. She was the sister who stayed three months at our home to care for my husband after he had neurosurgery so I could continue working. Ruth was the sister who loved decorating a table when she served the Gold Star mothers at her home. I sent her small branches of fall leaves to be placed at each table setting, and she was delighted with them.
Most of all, she was a sister who raised three children of her own and three stepchildren after losing her husband. Two years later she lost a son in Vietnam. In the last four years she has lost her biological daughter, a sister and her youngest son. Through all her trials, she remained steadfast in her faith that the Lord was in control and he would give her the grace to bear whatever came into her life.
Alzheimer’s may have taken her life, but my memories of her will remain, hopefully, until I join her.
Alzheimer’s is no respecter of persons — it can attack those much younger than I.
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