Chapter Forty-Four

I place my mother's miniatures -- the ones she kept locked away -- on a low shelf of my bookcase.  It gives me so much satisfaction that I am interrupted by emotions.  Here, the porcelain St. Bernard mother and pup are eye level to a small person of five or so years, and I smile knowing they will most certainly be discovered by a favorite pair of little girls.  

I treasure things in a very different way than my mother did.  Scattered around my life, my world, are the sentimental, sacred and fragile elements of my journey.  Beautiful old Irish linens get flung on outdoor tables, thirty-year old baby cups serve juice to young visitors, and I wear the pink and red zippered sweater that my grandmother made for my mother when I was just two years old.  I don't mind the thought that these particular little figurines will be most definitely touched, and picked up, and probably carried about -- possibly even lost or broken.  Because in the moment, they will delight.  There will be an added layer of human interaction.  They will become more precious.  My mother, however, guarded her collections behind glass doors so they would be undamaged and remain valuable.

Today her emotions, once only hinted at, are on display for the world to see.  They embarrass me, as if I am responsible for her unkindness and rage.  Were they always there -- suppressed -- or has the disease mangled her into this mess?  I don't think I ever knew her well enough to know this now.  Either way, they render her unacceptable to the care facility where she lives.  I've received the phone call with the administrator on the line.  The clock is ticking.  Alzheimers is winning, and everyone else is losing, losing, losing... with no way to know how much will be destroyed before it's over.  I can't even begin to process the rising panic over seeking a new solution.  "Redirect" has become "Restrain" -- which is a horrific precipice in my mind.

And so, I place a few of her things, figurines I know she once valued, in a place where her great-grandchildren can discover them and cradle them in their small hands.  I put my mind on tasks that are manageable.  And I wonder how much of the world is made up of people who are doing the same...