by Marijo Phelps

Created on: March 11, 2010

Mother's Last Christmas (A Dementia Story of Love)

Nine degrees, blustering north winds and me, on a scaffold helping Mark with log siding. Not only was I skittish about heights, but I was trying to fix Christmas dinner and keep track of Mom.

The log cabin was about 8 weeks away from being ready to move in. We had three folding tables and some chairs set up. The plumbing was working and so were we. That's part of the “blood, sweat and tears” equity you get when married to a builder.

“Honey, can you see Mom in the window?” I asked shifting the 16 footer up to get a better grip.

“Oh, oh, I don't see her there anymore. You need to go and check on her?”

Mom, who was really no longer Mom since dementia had claimed her, needed careful watching.

“Hold everything and I will be right back.”

I got off the platform, down the ladder, into the garage and though the house to the master bedroom. There was all the Christmas food, microwave, gifts in packages and empty chairs, but no Mom.

“Mom, where are you?” I nervously called out.

I found her in the living room gripping two plastic bags, “These are mine and nobody can have them”, was her terse reply.

“Well, let me see what you have, Mom let's put these towels back in the kitchen. What else do you have? Ah, tangerines, you know I'd give you anything I have but citrus always totally upsets your tummy. Hey, look what I found, your Christmas presents!” I deftly exchanged her bags for ones containing her little gifts.

“Let’s go back to the window so you can watch us do a few more pieces of siding, then we can eat.” I said as I steered her back to the bedroom.

She was amazed by the color in the paper and ribbons on her gifts, not to mention the chocolate. I hoped that would keep her occupied for a few minutes.

Grabbing my jacket, gloves and hat I hurried back outside to the scaffold, Mark and the log siding. It was gorgeous with the mountains, evergreens and snow frosted landscaping. It would have been even more beautiful in front of the fireplace inside.

“Hon, we just have about 3 more pieces and then I can get the rest myself,” said Mark seeing my concern about Mother and the scaffolding I was climbing.

“OK, there she is,” I waved to my aging Mom.

We placed another large piece of the log siding and used the nail gun. I looked down again to see an empty chair.

“Honey, she's gone again, be right back!”

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>