I had a completely different post planned for today. Keep your eyes peeled for “Sapphic Empowerment”.
Today, I’m writing about something that happened when I woke up yesterday for Mother’s Day.
I am always a little cautious on Mother’s Day. Over the years, I have found that something about this day elicits unexpected emotions. This year was no different.
There I was on the book of faces, looking at Mother’s Day posts from my cousins, friends, and others posting about their mothers, living or passed. I was sitting right next to my mother. I, too, have typically posted something marking the occasion, with pictures of us with her, usually laughing, some words about how much I love her, and am grateful she’s my mother.
That was my plan when I pulled up my photos to start looking for ones to post. That’s when it started. I kept looking at these photos of moments I’ve shared with my mother, remembering details about each one. That’s when it hit me: my mother has no memory of most of them. And I couldn’t stop crying.
Getting prepared for the journey
My mother was diagnosed with dementia in 2020. Since that time, I have done a lot of work to manage my emotions around this. I’m grateful that the diagnosis came while I was working on my Spiritual Practitioner license. I learned so much about myself, how spiritual alignment comes with emotional detachment. How joy, grief, and gratitude go hand-in-hand. The lessons all came at the perfect time, as lessons always do. Gratefully, over the last 5 years, I have had an enormous amount of support finding peace around this journey.
While it has been extraordinarily uncomfortable at times, I’m still grateful for what it has shown me.
You think this is hard…
I thought the hardest thing I would experience was when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer almost 15 years ago. I was in the car with her when she received her diagnosis and was there to go through chemo and all of the aftermath of that journey. I had found my way through managing my fear and grief at the thought of losing her, to get to the gratitude that I was able to be with her for the journey.
The dementia diagnosis has been very different. There are lots of instances, experiences, and emotional challenges to experience that there’s no way to prepare for until they happen. Like the day you are talking to your mother, retelling a story you experienced together, and she marvels that you were there too, because “that’s just like what happened to Robyn”, is a clear sign that she doesn’t recognize me as Robyn. When you’re mother forgets who you are, it’s a special emotional moment, you will probably never forget. And you can definitely make peace with it.
Over time, I have learned how to help her while also helping my family work through it. We’re still on this journey.
The title and subtitle refer to a text I sent my sister and her reply. I couldn’t understand how I was crying as though I missed my mother, while I sat next to her. My sister replied, “Cry all you want.”
It was the perfect response to remind me of being on the journey. I can unpack all of that other stuff later, or not. Life is happening, and gratefully, I get to keep experiencing it. Joy, grief, and gratitude remain companions for the journey. Tears are likely. The best thing you can do is permit yourself to be okay with crying if you need to.