A deep sadness has hold of me. Three years after my mothers death it seems to have hit me fresh and hard and relentless. I miss her - but that's not quite it. Along with my father and siblings I was a caregiver for my mother in her final years with Alzheimer's. I was with her daily and witnessed her struggle to connect, to communicate and to be seen....to be really seen....past the illness and into the lost person reaching out...asking for help, for kindness, for patience, for understanding. I wonder if I saw her. I hope she knows I tried. I'm haunted by her loneliness and it has settled in my soul. I'm not sure I can reach out any more than she was able to. I take to the page and try. A few words. Less helpful than needed. I remember my mother struggling for words...any words...for to talk was to connect. I hope I listened. I mean really listened - what was said and what was meant. Truly meant. I hope she knows I tried. There's a thousand ghost running through my head yet not a one is her. She's gone. The part that suffered and feared is gone. The truth of her lives on and offers comfort. She would not haunt me and would not want me haunted. For her sake I'll let go. Just not right now. Not tonight. Tonight - I'm alone with my ghosts.
Eric
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