Mom has been mumbling. She will repeat the same sounds like a mantra. Sometimes it is a part of a word, a “luh” or “mee” sound, or “amen” over and over again. Much of the time, I don’t think she is aware of making a sound. It seems to be an unconscious mannerism like a tic.
The pitch of her voice has gotten higher and the volume has lessened. Perhaps my hearing is starting to falter somewhat as well. Her voice used to be rich and full and authoritative. I used to liken her speech to an old TV ad: in the 1970s and 80s, an investment firm was best known for its colorful TV commercials on the phrase, “When E. F. Hutton talks, people listen,” which usually involved a young professional remarking at a dinner party that his broker was EF Hutton, which caused the moderately loud party to stop all conversation to listen to him. Mom was like that; people would listen.
She also had a very kind voice. People still tell me how Mom’s smile and kind words would light up their life. She was a bit mischievous and her laughter was light and contagious. She still has the power to make a room smile and laugh with her.
Recently a friend asked me if I could still hear her full voice in my mind. The years of dementia and aging have filled my memory of her sounds now. I wish I had recordings of her singing and talking when she was younger and healthier. I recognize and remember her beautiful handwriting because I have so many examples I can still hold of her letters and notes. I see her hair and clothing styles because of the many photos Dad (and others) took. I cannot hear her however.
I often daydream about returning to a particular moment in time. I would love to jump back for a few minutes to when my children were young or to a moment when I was traveling. I would love to step back in time to my childhood to see Mom in her 40s and 50s. I would love to see her – even if only through my childish eyes. I would love to tell the Donna of fifteen years ago to record her voice.
I have several recordings of her in recent years. Since my siblings aren’t nearby, I have captured a bit of video on good days to share with them. She might be singing or telling a fanciful story. Since they don’t hear her voice or see her as much as I do, I try to preserve the memory to share.
I have some video of the children when they were smaller. There are many scenes with Mom and Dad visiting us in Macon when the kids were small. Dad is usually on the floor playing with the kids, chasing them and tickling them, while Mom is sitting nearby watching. Her few words only admonish Dad not to be too rough or rambunctious. It was only much later when I realized that Mom rarely held the children after they were infants unless she was reading a book and they were snuggled into her lap. She was most often an observer and sideline philosopher. Whoever held the camera followed the action.
I know one day I will long to hear the voice that’s now a part of my everyday life. Many of you, my readers, would love to return to a particular moment in time to hear your mother’s voice again. Even as I’m living these days of caregiving for the one who gave so much to care for me, I try to be aware of every moment and hold her tight. So, whether she’s mumbling or giving sage advice to someone only she can see, I’m listening.
