Letting Go

     I came across a poem written by the daughter of a mother with advanced Alzheimer's.  My mother has not yet let go.  And therein lies some of her pain.  And some of mine.  This is so complicated.  So hard.  I'm at a loss for more words at the moment.  Memory Unit Moving Day is fast approaching.


by
Judith Scott
I tried to imagine how you felt
Incredibly frightened, yes, but
Also
So bitterly angry and frustrated
By the things you couldn't do,
That just - WOULDN'T - be done
No matter how hard you tried.
The words that wouldn't come
When you so wanted to put a
Good face on things
The way your mind let you down
And forgot what you were doing
Where you were going
And why.
That anger spilled over into everything
And blazed out against everyone.
I did understand, and grieved that
There was so little I could do:
You fought me as if I was the devil himself,
Accused me, abused me, rejected me
When I tried to help.
I knew it was the disease you hated,
Not me. The doctors said it would be easier
When you stopped fighting it, so
I prayed for that day to come,
But I didn't realise how it would be -
Not easy at all - to see you finally accept
Defeat and give in. And I didn't know
how I would weep, to see you,
Letting go.