From the September 2015 magazine.

I Get To Be With Her

She sits there, allowing me to hold her hand. Not really sure who I am, my mother nevertheless seems to find comfort in my presence. How difficult it was for her when she was in that twilight that comes with early-stage dementia, knowing that her mind was slipping away, that she should know people she didn't, especially her own son and daughter. But now that time has passed, a small blessing I suppose, so that she's content to not know as long as things don't get too confusing to her, so that she becomes agitated.

And that has become my job, to see to it that my mother, the woman who brought me into this world, is not overly stressed out with life. Being retired, I get to spend about 40 hours a week with her, while my sister and her husband are at work helping others. Mom lives with them now, and I'm so grateful there can always be someone with her if she calls out in the middle of the night. My daughter also helps from time to time when I need to get away. So we're holding it together with God's help.

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