While Etta is unable to recall what she ate for lunch or whether her hair was washed this morning, she is able to vividly recollect memories from her past. She doesn't like being asked questions, but if framed just so, she does willingly provide information of interest to me.
She often talks about her mama and daddy, growing up in the country and good times with her sisters and her brother. Etta has a lot of respect for her mama and has shared stories of how she "did everything" eventhough she had 6 children. Her mama sewed most of their clothing, had a bountiful garden of vegetables, tended to the animals, canned, kept house, served at church, and somehow managed to spend quality time with each of her children. I am amazed at how many details Etta can remember from so long ago. Little tidbits about how her mama seasoned the dishes she made or the silly antics between her and her sisters are seeminly at the forefront of her mind.
...and yet, the trauma of her recent years, remains clouded, if not totally camoflauged, by Alzheimer's. This is both a blessing and a curse...While I am grateful she is unaware of what she has been through and therefore unaware of her child's involvement in that horror, because of this, she is constantly in limbo...I know she must wonder about the son she never sees. I know she must wonder each day why she doesn't go home. And when these questions surface (and they do all of the time), my answer is always the same...ONE DAY AT A TIME....
She often talks about her mama and daddy, growing up in the country and good times with her sisters and her brother. Etta has a lot of respect for her mama and has shared stories of how she "did everything" eventhough she had 6 children. Her mama sewed most of their clothing, had a bountiful garden of vegetables, tended to the animals, canned, kept house, served at church, and somehow managed to spend quality time with each of her children. I am amazed at how many details Etta can remember from so long ago. Little tidbits about how her mama seasoned the dishes she made or the silly antics between her and her sisters are seeminly at the forefront of her mind.
...and yet, the trauma of her recent years, remains clouded, if not totally camoflauged, by Alzheimer's. This is both a blessing and a curse...While I am grateful she is unaware of what she has been through and therefore unaware of her child's involvement in that horror, because of this, she is constantly in limbo...I know she must wonder about the son she never sees. I know she must wonder each day why she doesn't go home. And when these questions surface (and they do all of the time), my answer is always the same...ONE DAY AT A TIME....