My Eulogy to Mother: A Loving, Gentle Education

Where do I begin?

As a child, with her recognizing my extreme shyness and shielding me?

As a teen, with me recognizing her shyness about certain things because I’m still waiting for THE talk!

As a young adult, when I questioned the existence of our Creator and about everything else while she lovingly, patiently walked with me through that “dark” stage, knowing all along, between she and God, I would return to my faith.

As a middle aged adult, when our roles began to ever so slightly shift but she so often kept trying to keep seeing me as a child although I may have spent most of my afternoon as a problem solver sitting in the jail’s holding cell with a probationer.

Today is where I begin.

Mother and I had shared a spiritual journey since the Fall of 2002. God walked with us every step of the walk, blessings were bountiful. Mother was in the middle stages of Alzheimer’s when diagnosed in April 2003, shortly after Jeanette and I had taken her to the Olive Garden to celebrate her 80th birthday.

Did she know me then? Absolutely!

For those of you who shared some of that time with us, you know we traveled up and down the roads of Brazos and surrounding counties, spending a lot of time in downtown Bryan, reminiscing about the “old” days.

You know we were Dairy Queen regulars because of her vanilla ice cream cone addiction, some of you even shared those cones with us.

We would drive through McDonald’s for senior cokes, sometimes hitting as many as three McDonald’s in an afternoon.

You knew you were welcome in her home because of that smile – O, that smile was the outward embrace of her heart loving you.

We would lie in bed laughing about so many different things. And when she would go to sleep, I would lightly stroke her hair or gently touch her face, trying to forever lock into my mind those moments so my memories would not fade as time moved forward from this day.

I spent countless hours and days and weeks and months and years answering her as she asked about so many of those she dearly loved. Finally, with time, the questions became less, perhaps partly because of memory loss, perhaps not.

And for those of us who were really lucky, we’ve got the memory of having received that special wink from her. She gave them sparingly. You had to work for it. But when she gave you her special wink, you knew she just gave you a little piece of her heart.

Did things change? Of course.

Did things get worse? Sure, but only in the last 6 or so months.

Did she still know and recognize me? Most of the time.

Did she still know and recognize Jeanette, Gordon, Tammy and Shannon? Most of the time.

Did she still talk? Just about all the time.

Could she understand her surroundings? Most of the time.

Could she feel joy, sadness and fear? Of course.

Did I bribe her with money to take 5 bites of food? You bet and she took exactly five bites and took my $20 bill.

Did I bribe her at times to take her medicine? You bet. I learned quickly she would look at me with some degree of impishness and a twinkle in her eye, take my $20 bill and then dismiss me without taking her medicine.

Could she hear your voice and have some recognition of who it was? Most of the time.

Could she tell me she didn’t like what I had cooked and could we please go get something else to eat? Absolutely! No question about that one.

I think what most folks don’t quite understand about Alzheimer’s is that the person is still there, still present, still wanting to hold on to life, still wanting to be held, still wanting to be loved, still wanting all the things we all want everyday. That’s all Mother wanted.

Did she know me when she began going Home? You bet. When I told her I loved her, she looked me right in the eyes with the most knowing, loving expression and I knew she was saying, “And I love you, too.”

God loaned Mother to me to care for her during this journey we shared. I took care of her the best and most loving way I could, always with God’s help. When He wanted her to come back home, I walked her to that bridge and God took her hand to travel the rest of the way.

So often Mother would ask me when she was going home?

On Friday morning, August 10, I held my Mother so close, kissed her a final goodbye and told her, “Momma, you’re going home now.”