against all odds, despite everything

10

holding-hands-cropped

Flashback March 17, 2015: Mom’s hands nestle in the cradles of mine. Her touch is light. She puts one foot in front of the other with hardly any hesitation. As she steps forward, I step back – watching, feeling, sensing.

“You’re walking so well today Mom,” I observe.

“Yeah I’ll be walking right right right right right right right right right RIGHT!” She builds to a crescendo.

“Yes,” I chuckle. “That was quite a few rights, Mom.”

“Yeah I know,” she agrees. We stop talking. Focus on taking a few steps. Then a few more.

“You’re practically walking on your own,” I say.

“Yeah, I am.” I love her ferocity. I’m glad it lives in me. It will remind me of her when she’s gone.

“You saw what I was writing,” she says.

“What?” How does she know these things? It blows my mind.

“You saw what I was writing.”

“I did,” I agree. I match her steps ahead with my own in reverse. We advance and retreat for several short, steady paces.

“You saw I was writing books,” she continues.

“You were writing books?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow! Do you know what the title is going to be?”

“What?”

“Do you have any ideas about what the title is going to be?”

“Yeah. I went with ideas,” she says.

“Good,” I say. “That sounds like a good title: ‘Mom’s Ideas.”

“Mom’s Ideas,” she parrots. Her hands remain like feathers in mine. Her feet are firm on the floor. Her legs are solid.

“How do you feel?” I check in.

“Feel fine,” she says without a doubt.

“Do you wanna keep walking?”

“Yeah. I wanna keep walking.” Unequivocal again. I decide to double check anyway.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“No,” she says.

“Okay, let’s keep walking then.”

“I want to go with you,” she says.

“Pardon me?”

“I want to go with you.”

“I know you do,” I say. My voice cracks a little.

“‘Cause I like you to to to to to…” She can’t quite find the words.

“To what Mom?”

“To to to to to to to to….do the skating with me.” I laugh. Then she laughs too. We share the absurdity of the situation and the fact that skating has everything and nothing to do with this moment in this place at this time.

“We’ll go skating. Like a couple of ducks on a pond,” I kid with her. She doesn’t know I wrote about her storytelling to my younger cousins when they were little girls. Yet somehow she does. Another dip into intuitive clairvoyance.

“Yeah, like on a pond,” she goes with it. We glide along imaginary ice instead of getting stuck on worn wooden floorboards.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s keep rolling.”

And we do. Against all odds. Despite everything.

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March 16, 2015

10 Comments

  1. That is a wonderful story/remembrance, Susan! I love that she had moments of full awareness and could still laugh and make a joke. God was good to her in spite of Alzheimer’s. xo Diana

    • Yes, I also found that interesting. In no way was mom ever close to being a writer – she and I are very different in that way. This is what I perceive as being part of her intuitive clairvoyance. Somehow she knows about the things that are going on in my life, Things I haven’t told her about, and she articulates them randomly at times when we haven’t been talking about anything at all related. I have never told her that I’m writing a book.

      The other day I got a notice from the local university to say that their pool had reopened and inviting me to sign up for the Masters swim class. Again I didn’t mention anything about this to mom. But the next day for no reason whatsoever as I was wheeling her down the hall she said to me out of the blue “Are you going to take me for a swim?”

      These kinds of things happen on a regular basis an kind of freak me out when they do!

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