Mom has been closing her eyes to her world a lot lately. From what I read, it is further evidence that she is entering the last stage of this disease. Mom can’t hear real well, so I think that it is also her retreat – a safe and quiet space – closed off from the sights and sounds of the world around her which grows less familiar each and every day.
I believe this may be mom’s final winter of life trapped in a body and mind afflicted with Alzheimer’s. This stage morphs wildly from good to bad daily – sometimes several times a day. Mom will take a huge downward step one day, then surprisingly recover the next day – sometimes all within a day.
One day she’ll see me arrive and clap her hands together in joy while announcing to anyone within earshot, “Oh, good! My mother is here!” and the next day (sometimes that same afternoon) there will be a vacant look and not even a glimmer of recognition or joy in her eyes.
One day she’ll be sitting at a table with two of her friends enjoying her lunch in the dining room (and maybe sneaking things off of a nearby plate of a table mate too), and then the next several days she will only eat her meals from her bedside. On those days, she usually eats with her eyes closed. These steps downward are more frequent these days, and times of recovery are increasingly brief.
This may sound crazy. My heart hurts at seeing this happen to my mom, but is strangely comforted by the fact that it is happening too.
Sadness mingled with joy: that is what I feel. Sadness in knowing that she is going through so much pain and confusion, yet I know full well there are harder days ahead. Joy in knowing that her long journey is coming to an end here on earth and that the beautiful and long-awaited day is drawing near when she opens her eyes in Heaven.
4 thoughts on “The Decline: Eyes Closed to Her World”
Thank you so much for sharing your journey and your mother’s. My 96-year-old mother is exhibiting much the same symptoms now. All I can do is abide with her.
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I like how you describe it. Abide with her. So fitting. I’m abiding with mom right now and praying for you and your mom (wow, 96 years).
Hugs and prayers to you, Cindie, and your family.
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