What a lovely way for your mum to introduce you to her friends. I suppose this reversal of roles isn’t uncommon.
But it was a bit different with my mum before her passing: words weren’t forgotten or lost per se. Rather, the English language would disappear altogether, episodically, and either Russian or/and German, even in the same sentence, would begin to articulate her thoughts and memories of the moment. Luckily, the German was easily understood; but the Russian was a bit more difficult to translate for me. In the end, even when she stopped talking in any audible language, she still shone with happiness and love, and everyone who visited her towards the end, understood her every gesture. Thanks
So powerful and yet gentle at the same time...kind of like a hug where we are putting changing and aging and loss and love around ourselves and squeezing. Thank you Phyllis.
Thank you, Julie. Speaking of this during Creatives' Coffee probably helped stir up the poem. One of you nudged it along, though I didn't feel the "coming forth" until later.
Been there. Love the way you brought it home. Dementia, or that word for when mama forgets. You know, the word. Granddaddy had it too.
Smiling softly at this, Bill.
What a lovely way for your mum to introduce you to her friends. I suppose this reversal of roles isn’t uncommon.
But it was a bit different with my mum before her passing: words weren’t forgotten or lost per se. Rather, the English language would disappear altogether, episodically, and either Russian or/and German, even in the same sentence, would begin to articulate her thoughts and memories of the moment. Luckily, the German was easily understood; but the Russian was a bit more difficult to translate for me. In the end, even when she stopped talking in any audible language, she still shone with happiness and love, and everyone who visited her towards the end, understood her every gesture. Thanks
...”she still shone with happiness and love.” ❤️
This is a dear remembrance, Jeffrey.
“The dusty attic” of our brain….resonates. Hubby & I are at the age where some dust sometimes settles.
Saw my beautiful Mom through that journey ❤️
PS Love your husband’s sense of humor 😉
💜💙❤️
Oh Phyllis. The move from your husband's gentle humor to the poignant "dusty attic" that is still filled with love...holy wow. ❤️
Blessings to you in these weeks of travel.
Thank you, dear Brigid. Blessings always flow . . .
Lovely, Phyllis❣️
May you be wrapped and squeezed in loved ones’ arms during this crazily hectic schedule. 🤗
Thank you, Nancy. Lots of hugging going on! (I hope there is for you, too.)
May you feel arms wrapped around you in these coming weeks.
Thank you, Karin. I have felt them! And I hope you have too!
So powerful and yet gentle at the same time...kind of like a hug where we are putting changing and aging and loss and love around ourselves and squeezing. Thank you Phyllis.
You are indeed hugged, Valerie.
Oh, I love this. Some days I see myself slipping into this relationship with my daughter. Perhaps because she is OF me she usually has the word.
Blessed relationship. May the two of you flourish together, even in the hard parts.
A gift of a poem, this Arms Round.
Thanks Phyllis! Love this poetic reminder of the mysteries of the mind! Take it slow!
Take. It. Slow.
During our “Creatives” you spoke of this. What a poignant and loving piece full of understanding. Your words touch so many. 🙏🏻
Thank you, Julie. Speaking of this during Creatives' Coffee probably helped stir up the poem. One of you nudged it along, though I didn't feel the "coming forth" until later.
A dear poem, shows her love and your love.
No shortage of love!