She doesn’t remember me.
I hope my children never have a reason to say them. But it could happen. If it does I hope they understand that even in my confused mind they are still a part of me.
By the time I reach that point I will have lost much already.
My ability to cook.
My driver’s license or even how to find my way home if I did still have that privilege.
I pray I’ll still have the ability to read and understand the words my favorite authors have so painstakingly crafted. A world without books would be barren indeed for someone who loves to read as much as I do.
Alzheimer’s or some other form of dementia will have taken me somewhere back in time.
Perhaps I am reliving my days as a busy young mother and you, my darling daughter or son, are still in elementary school. You have not yet grown into the wonderful adult you will become. I see you pink cheeked and out of breath after running up the steps, opening the screen door, and calling out, “Mom, I’m home. Guess what I got on my spelling test today!”
It may not seem like it in the moment but the memory of you is deeply implanted in my heart. The heart that beat so close to yours during the time I carried you. The heart that cried with you when you were hurt and rejoiced with you when you achieved a goal.
If the day comes when I look at you and ask, “Who are you?” I hope you will smile, give me your name, and tell me about your mother.
I love you. I pray you never forget that.
Dr. Phil: Please help support caregivers via the Dr. Phil Foundation. Caregivers are in desperate need of respite and you can help make it happen.
The Imperfect Caregiver 
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