We’ve had some tough days recently.
With the storm and lack of power, our responsibilities caring for Mom felt far more difficult. I know we had it easy here in Habersham compared to so many who suffered great loss, but it was tricky nonetheless. The only thing that got me through the days of gloom were when I caught Mom smiling.
Mom’s a big smiler – always has been as far as I can tell. There are decades of photographs of her smiling through the years. Whether posed or candids, she has a smile that goes all the way to her eyes. Mom’s joyful disposition was certainly one of the reasons she had so many friends!
Flowers were a special delight – she loves flowers! Real or artificial, she thought they were beautiful. There are many photographs of her smiling in gardens, enjoying this or that flower. They were all her favorites.
She was an adventurer, too; she went with Daddy all over the world. Even after he retired from the military, they took trips as often as possible. There are hundreds of photos of Mom smiling through the mist at Niagara Falls or near a castle in Germany or somewhere out west. They loved to travel together and their smiles tell it all!
Mom’s biggest smiles were in response to her children or grandchildren; they were her greatest delight. In one photo, she is smiling holding one of her precious newborns. In another photo, she is grinning while embracing a beautiful grandchild. I am grateful for each of these images. Her grandchildren and great-grandchildren may not remember her beautiful smiles without them.
Mom smiles most often now in response to her visions and dreams. She’s interacting less and less with her caregivers, but she still talks and laughs out loud. I get tickled at her laughter. It often comes without warning and fades just as quickly. Her beautiful face is smiling although her eyes are closed. It makes me smile, too.
As Mom continues to be overshadowed by this disease, I know we’ll lose even these tenuous connections. On days when she’s barely responding, I despair of ever seeing her smiling face again. Then God will give us the serendipitous moment of her laughter and I continue to rejoice that she is still here.
It’s an odd feeling to be unable to make her smile. I’ve never had trouble with that before now, and honestly, it’s the hardest transition so far. I feel lost, bereft, in a way that I haven’t dealt with up until now.
My brother, Alan, came over today. When he roused her, she gave him a huge smile which was there for a few seconds’ then she faded away again. She didn’t wake up enough to speak to him the rest of his visit. I think it broke his heart, too.
It’s hard to keep smiling.
