Her Greatest Adventure: How I’m Remembering My Mother’s Death after Alzheimer’s

Eleven years ago, I walked into my mother’s room in the nursing home, carrying a cookies and cream milkshake. (I was pregnant, after all.) I found her finally at peace. Today, I’m remembering my mother’s death after Alzheimer’s disease.

Anniversary of My Mother’s Death after Alzheimer’s

Even after four days of waiting and watching her body fail, finding her actually dead was a shock.  I stopped in my tracks, then subconsciously backed up against the wall across from her bed, staring in disbelief.  My father and I missed her final breath by only minutes or seconds. I believe she wanted it that way.

The week of scanning photos for her memorial service that followed helped to soften my mental image of my mother. I did not want to remember her feverish, unconscious and dehydrated, then cold and lifeless in her bed.

Grieving after Alzheimer’s Death

A friend once told me that when someone dies, it’s like a book closes.  You can see glimpses of the book or think about the book. But you can never open it and mine it for knowledge again.

While I can’t hug or have a conversation with my mother, she is more accessible to me now than she was in the final years of her illness, lost and unable to communicate.

Now she is whole and limitless.  She is my mother again, beautiful and intelligent and opinionated. She is no longer an Alzheimer’s patient–stuck in a wheelchair, emaciated, unaware and dying.

Grief and Motherhood

I cry every time I watch the moment in Up! when Carl finds his deceased wife Ellie’s inscription: “Thanks for the adventure – now go have a new one!”

I didn’t have to look far to find my new adventure–motherhood.

I was pregnant with my first daughter when I set up hospice care for my mother. That decision followed my mom’s stressful hospital visit in May 2011.

I was pregnant with my second daughter when my mother passed away, two years later, in June 2013.  My husband and I discovered we were having another girl just a couple of weeks after the memorial service for my mother.

My Youngest Daughter Reminds Me of Myself and My Mother

Now, my youngest daughter looks at me with eyes I’ve known my whole life. They are the eyes I see in the mirror; they are also my mother’s eyes.

My baby is delicate and wild like my mom.  Her food allergies and sensitive skin were a struggle at first. But they opened my eyes to possible links between genetic gluten sensitivity and my mom’s health issues including hypothyroidism and Alzheimer’s disease.

(Today I know that cookies and cream milkshake is the trifecta of inflammatory foods I shouldn’t be eating–dairy, gluten, and sugar.)

My youngest daughter’s brave and adventurous spirit daily inspires me to embrace life as an adventure. She challenges me to let go of past hurts and mistakes. And she encourages me to move forward with curiosity instead of fear.

My Mother’s Greatest Adventure

The longest day of the year, the Summer Solstice, was my mother’s final full day on this Earth.  I think it is no accident that she waited to leave us until June 22nd, my brother’s birth month and my birth date.

I like to think it was her way of forever reminding us that we were her greatest adventure.

A version of this post was originally published June 22, 2014.