This book was wonderful.
I don’t always weep my way through books, but this book hit every hard spot—every secret, hidden place in my heart. Every other page is marked for my commonplace in this very raw look at a daughter’s journey with her mother who had a rare form of dementia. I appreciated her sense of humor through all of the emotions, and tucked many treasures in my heart as I take care of my own mother—to look for those “golden paperclips”—the places where the light gets in. I especially appreciated her discussing her Dad, how he longed for companionship with someone else even though he was still technically married. The anger and awkwardness there, how that changed, and ended up being a blessing for the whole family... Life can be so hard and weird, yet beautiful all at the same time.
Some quotes:
“I was mad at Dad, too. How could he let her walk all over him? How could he let this disease kill both of them? I turned forty, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t hear from my parents at all on my birthday. I had a pit in my stomach. They’d abandoned me. And once again I hated myself for that selfish thought.”
“Old Mom tormented me, wounded me with her silence, and sometimes left me sobbing in bed for hours. She was like a ghost who was fading fast. The harder I tried to grasp her, the more it felt as if she’d deserted me. New Mom was a cruel counterfeit, reminding me that the other one wasn’t gone, wasn’t at peace, but was trapped.”
“I preferred accepting the loss and trying to move forward. But to do that I needed to mourn, and I was having trouble figuring out how while she was still alive. I was in a holding pattern of confused grief.”
“I need to see her as she is, instead of how I want her to be.”
“My mother is not only presenting me with an opportunity to love unconditionally, she’s also allowing me to practice being comfortable with what is uncomfortable. To grieve and also embrace what is broken. To know that some days I can receive who my mother is now and some days I struggle with it. To allow that two opposing thoughts may exist in my head at the same time. I want things to be the way they were, and I am relieved that they never will be again. I regret I didn’t feel more acceptance from my mother at times in my life, and I’m grateful for the lesson she is giving me now in accepting myself. Jay put it this way: ‘Letting go of what she used to be has been the hardest act, and yet the most liberating.’”
“In accepting our limited wisdom, we allow for infinite possibility.”
“But lately, just when I think I’ve lost her, I find her again in small things and brief moments. They deepen the mystery, and feel something like miracles.”