Bøger af Jem Stone

It's hard to say when our time to leave this earth will be, or to predict how we will go. My Mother's been in the Dementia ward for five years now and with each visit there is less and less of her there, mentally and physically. It brings to mind an hourglass, the sands sifting down slowly. As a grown woman with kids of my own you'd think I'd be tougher but somehow watching her blowing away little by little, day by day, I'm overcome with a deep sense of loss and sadness. The helplessness and devastation chokes me, as if I swallowed a bull frog that won't go down. If I'm this devastated and overwhelmed, I can't even begin to imagine how my father, who's been married to her for sixty two years must feel.My Mom's general health is good and I catch glimpses of her amazing personality when it shines through in sudden bursts that startle you, like fireworks, flooding your mind with precious memories that are long lost to her by the ravages of her disease. I know my true Mom, the smart, tough, talented, driven, chief, cook and bottle washer is still in there, buried under leaves of confusion. When I'm with her I take her by the hand and do a little dance, then ball my eyes out on the way home. To all of you who are in my shoes, it's with firm resolve that I say; May God Bless Us All, so that we can ride out this storm called Alzheimer's each in our own family dingy, hanging on for dear life, all the while praying that one day a cure will come.