What am I, who am I, where am I?

[Margm]

My body will not run around in senseless circles 24/7.  Why does my wax laden brain and heart run around in circles?  The first 18 years I spent wondering what I was going to do, what was I going to be, who was I going to marry.  The next 54 were spent in a productive life, raising a family, being married, going around detours, over speed bumps and finally shifting into cruise in that precious life.  Now, what is left?  Who am I, what am I, where am I going, what am I going to do when I get there?  My friend, also a widow, told me now I can find who I really am.  I wonder if they serve alcoholic drinks at my pity party.  No, wait, they won't let me drink alcohol.  I have pills enough saved up.  I do have alcohol left over from many years ago, but wait, I cannot drink it.  No, I am not suicidal, I have grandchildren and two middle aged children that I cannot put them through what we are going through right now.  Billy faced my death, but I had a miracle.  We faced his death, we wanted a miracle, but we had used all our miracles up.  Billy said, the one who is left must stay.  Okay, here I am.  He is me, I am him.  We were one.  Now we really are one.  The wind is blowing furiously, it is a cold front coming in.  The clouds are white and gray, but the sun has come out.  In a mixture of words I have heard before "I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep." I think this is what we call "one of our bad days." 

[Guest]

Margaret - 

I'm about three months further along and from what you describe; thoughts of wishing it would end (not to be confused with suicidal thoughts; wanting so desparately to reunite with the missing part of our fractured souls, you describe me.  I did have a few weeks thrown in where I had moved from depression into a sort of limbo; accepting things but not really, not numb but not truly feeling, and then like the sadist grief is it saw that I was getting too comfortable, I was adapting too well and it reared its grotesque head, tauntingly, to slap me back down into the darkness, the gloom, the despondency, the mire of knowing that my life is irrevocably and forever changed.  Unlike you I knew who I was prior to meeting my Deedo; I had travelled life's paths of exploration and discovery.  I was comfortable with me.  Deedo came along and as we melded together we filled those chinks and hollows in each other.  I went from being Brad to being BradnDeedo.  Now I need to find Brad again and I am doing so against my wishes, reluctantly, hanging onto every shred of what is now a former life, jealously and passively.  Such is our lot now.  Bad day after bad day after bad day after not so good day after bad day.

[Margm]

Brad, I have one of my widow friends (at my age, I have many widow friends), who lost her husband, a relative of mine some 17 years ago.  He left suddenly, during his sleep, still a young man.  They were not together as she was helping attend to their daughter at the surgery of their tiny grandchild.  They left each other after an argument.  The coroner had taken his body before she could come home.  Still 17 years later, this beautiful woman has unsettled grief.  All these years later, she owns her own business, meets people every day and still grieves unsettled grief.  Yes, she has had counselors, yes we will have them or have had them.  I think the Rumi poem I posted somewhere yesterday says it all.  We  can have people walking this road with us, but when it comes down to it, we still have to walk it alone.  My widow friends offer me hope for the future.  One has remarried and this husband of about 12 years is on his path out of this world too.  So, again, she will go through and down this path none of us want to walk on.

While I say that my widow friends offer me hope for the future and I mention one that has remarried, that is not the hope for the future I intended.  My hope for the future is just to live a day without tears (and I think I may have had at least one day).  My mama with Alzheimer's tells the tale of having had two husbands.  My sister tells me that she tells this story with such conviction that it almost is believable..  But, knowing all of my mama's now deceased immediate family, their loud mouths would have let that secret be known to community, friends, relatives so long ago that we know it is not true.  So, maybe if we live to our later years, we can live in a mind that remembers an imaginative life where grief is no more.  

[kayc]

My mom had Lewy Bodies Dementia, kind of like Alzheimer's mixed with Parkinson's.  She also had Leukemia.  Dementia is more than loss of memory, it carries with it delusions, some of them frightening.  She thought a man at the care center raped her, for instance.  He didn't.  He is harmless and sweet, sits and hold a doll and rocks it all day.  She had gaps in her memory so she'd make up stuff to fill in the gaps, to try and make sense of it.  She knew my dad wasn't around, so she assumed they must have divorced (he'd passed 33 years before her).  I assured her they hadn't, that he loved her still and was waiting for her, she cried.  I don't wish for dementia, if it'd just wipe out painful memories, it'd be one thing, but it's an out of control disease taking everything in it's path.  But I do understand your wish.  Years ago I watched a movie where someone had her heart broken and she had her mind reset as if nothing had happen...she had no memory of him at all.  I wouldn't want that.  Even with the pain, if I had my memory wiped out, I'd miss all the love and the memories of my George, and I could never ever wish that, not in a million years.  It is memories of him that keeps me going, that consoles me.  Make it through the pain and you will begin to see the comfort.

[Margm]

I do not want to be a burden on my kids, someone they have to come see, someone who does not know them.  My sister told me to be prepared for Mama not knowing me.  That is ironic.  My mom has had some mental disorder all her life.  I think they would call it borderline personality disorder now.  We did not know this when I was small, we just knew Mama did not have friends.  She did not need friends, she had 6 brothers and sisters to fuss with, and a husband to fuss at, and two kids.  Once when staying with Mama after she broke her hip, she started in on me.  I told her "Mama, I am not one of your sisters, I am not going to fuss with you."  She looked like I had slapped her.  I was redheaded and freckle faced.  I had naturally curly hair that Mama liked to put in a frizz permanent.  With me and my dog, I looked like Little Orphan Annie.  Mama had black hair, Daddy had black hair.  My daddy's mama was my Mammaw, I lived close to her, and was the only grandchild for nearly nine years.  Her grandparents had both been redheads so she doted on me.  Yet, my mama looked at me my whole life like she did not know where I came from.  Going to see her this Thanksgiving and her not knowing me might be somewhat of a shock, but maybe not as great a one as my sister thinks.  Mama has always had a sharp tongue.  When I was young people would ask her where I got my red hair.  Mama in her caustic tongue would say "from her daddy."  People would say, "but Elvie has not got red hair."  Mama would say "no he doesn't."  

[kayc]

Margaret,

Well your mom must have had some sense of humor at least!  People used to ask me where my son got his blonde hair when he was little...I was blonde until my mid 20s.  Sometimes I think people should keep their questions to themselves!

I can relate to your situation with your mom.   My mother had nearly every personality disorder except bipolar.  She is extremely paranoid, given to histrionics, schizoid, narcissistic. She couldn't make/keep friends either, she drove everyone away.  But even though she had seven brothers and sisters, they didn't see her much, it was us kids she put everything on.

I hope your time with your mom is good, and perhaps, just perhaps, her dementia will softer her as it did my mom at the end.

[Margm]

I have not seen my mom since June.  My sister said she is a much sweeter person now.  She came from a very big family, a very loud family.  The family reunions were something to remember.  Each girl tried to out yell the other.  Eventually, one would get angry, go to her car and drive home.  I loved those reunions.  My cousins and I still talk about them. (The ones who are left).  All the sisters outlived their husbands.  We all figured the husbands were ready to go anyhow, they never got a chance to talk.  Funny, all the husbands would get together alone at these reunions and have eggnog, or whatever season it was would have another drink.  A lot of the men drank a lot away from the reunions too.  I can really sympathize with them.  All of those girls were totally beautiful in countenance though, just their tongues were sharp. Mama calls herself "the last of the Mohicans" (sp?) and despite being mixed German, Irish, Dutch, she really is the last one. 

[kevin]

Momma and Alzheimers, my Mother developed the disease at least 10 years ago.......It was sad to see a strong willed and kind  Woman change to a Vindictive and contemptuous person. She would quote scripture, particularly Leviticus, and if it was written...it is the Law.....It was sad but after seeing/sharing this with at least 20 people in different groups, I came to understand the illness. So today, two years after her passing, my memories are very much alive with her very early years, and they are all good.......She brought Christmas alive...... 

[kayc]

Dementia is weird, it seems the nice ones can turn mean whereas the ones who were troubled all their lives get sweeter...perhaps it's that they forget their paranoia, etc.  I guess we have to remember them at their best, whichever stage it was.