Saying Good-Bye Before She is Gone

I went home this weekend to visit my mother who has Alzheimer's.  It was a short trip -- I had to squeeze it in between John's work requirements.  This is the first time I've seen her since she has been diagnosed.  My dad has been keeping me up-to-date on her progress for the past few months, and wanted me to come visit as soon as was reasonable.  I hadn't been to Ohio in years and was worried about the trip.  If she didn't remember she was married to my father, would she remember me?

I went alone.  My dad thought that would be best, and I agreed.  I wanted to get a sense of where she was at before I brought the kids along.  My dad sent me an article about how to communicate with people with Alzheimer's.  I am not sure my kids would be sensitive enough to understand she is not insulting them when she asks four times if they remembered their beach towels.  She doesn't remember she asked the question.

In the end, the trip went better than expected, which is good.  I am glad I made the trip before she further declined.

Flying into Columbus, I wondered what would happen if she didn't remember me.  How would I say good-bye to someone who isn't going anywhere?  Unless some other illness kills her first, I know that eventually she won't remember me or my father or brother.   What will happen then?  I am not sure how much she is aware of her disease.  I know she knows she has Alzheimer's, but I don't know that she understands it.  In a way, the disease is incomprehensible.  How could she forget what she already knows?  How could she understand that her disease is causing her to forget her husband?  So I can't say good-bye.  She is saying where she is at, but leaving just the same.