Alzheimer's: Memories are a funny thing
So often having a loved one with Alzheimer’s induces a panic about what that person will forget. But I like to think about memory a little differently. Indulge me for a moment and let me explain.
My daughter does not remember many of things that happened when she was really little, things that I still can pull into my recall in a moment’s notice. In her junior year of high school Alicia came home happily telling me about a great new friend she had started having lunch with. Alicia was incredulous when I told her she and that “new” friend had been in the same small preschool class years ago. They had not seen each other since then and had absolutely no recall of each other.
We took a trip to Disney when Alicia was in kindergarten. She insisted on standing in line for almost an hour to meet Tinkerbell, and we have adorable photos of her and her fairy hero as a result. Looking at those photos over the years has given her a bit of a recall of that day, but honestly, she does not remember that trip as clearly as I do. It was magical!
Alicia does not remember so many things about her early years, but all I did for her during that time mattered. In a big way. That I was there, that she felt secure. We had adventures that shaped and molded how she feels about life and the world. Even though she fully remembers very few.
I think that same way about being with Mom during her Alzheimer’s. Did Mom almost instantly forget we had spent a fun day together baking cookies or driving around the mountains? Yes. She forgot WHAT we did. But the happy feelings she had stayed with her.
Early in Mom’s Alzheimer’s journey, when she was still keenly aware and terrified of forgetting, heartbroken that she knew her mind was going to leave her, I read the book Still Alice by Lisa Genova. A passage jumped out at me, that I held onto all during Mom’s dementia:
“My yesterdays are disappearing, and my tomorrows are uncertain, so what do I live for? I live for each day. I live in the moment. Some tomorrow soon, I'll forget that I stood before you and gave this speech. But just because I'll forget it some tomorrow doesn't mean that I didn't live every second of it today. I will forget today, but that doesn't mean that today didn't matter.” – Alice (who has early onset Alzheimer’s) in Still Alice by Lisa Genova
I printed that quote and framed it beside a picture of me and Mom and gave it to her for Christmas that year. Dad kept it in a prominent place in the house, where she would see and remember it. When she moved into a memory care facility, that framed picture and quote went, too. As a reminder.
Those days growing up that Alicia does not remember still mattered. The many things we did with Mom during her dementia mattered.
Also, I remember. That I remember those moments with Mom, I remember those early childhood days with Alicia, is so important to me. I cherish them. We shared them. Even someday when some of my memories fade. Those moments will have made an indelible mark on my heart.
Helpful Resources:
Andrea Osborne is Capitol Broadcasting Company’s director of content. She has a daughter in college and recently lost her mother who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She will be sharing her family’s journey here on WRAL’s family section.
