Chapter 27: Sweet Momma

As I have spoken of the events of the previous 2 years, you haven't heard me speak of my mom. My mother is living and is 76 years old. She doesn't know of anything that has transpired in my life during the last 2 years. She has Alzheimers. There have been many times during the past several months that I longed for my mom's arms to cradle me, for her to hold me and cry with me. But to tell you the truth, our relationship changed drastically long before her illness began. As I have continued through the healing process, my heart has broken for my mom. I have come to some realizations that have opened my eyes to truth that I'm not certain I can fully reconcile.

I go to the nursing home to see my mom. My visits have felt different the past couple of months. I look at her in a different way. I sit with her, I hold her hand, and I cry. I stare at her and wish I could speak words that her broken mind could understand. If only I had known then what I know now. I long to tell her that I get it....I understand what happened to her....that I'm so sorry that I stopped believing in her.....that I fully grasp the shame that follows hurting those you love and the confusion that takes over your mind, causing you to act like you would not normally act....to do things that are out of character for you. I wish I could ask her to forgive me.

She was 48 years old and began to display an unusual sense of insecurity about her. She seemed to need constant approval from others. Her personality was changing before our eyes. I was in high school and remember vividly telling one of my friends, "I think my mom is going crazy. She must be going through the change." Over the next year, my mom found the security she was missing in another man's arms. During that time, her strange behavior drove not only her family but all of her friends away. At the end of that year, she found herself divorced, alone, and scared. I became a newlywed the same month that her and my dad divorced. She was at our house almost daily, crying and asking for our help. She had lost everything and everyone around her and she had no one to blame but herself. She found herself living in a run-down apartment, dating random men from every walk of life. Although I tried not to turn my back on her, she continued to make decisions that were driving her children further away. I was disgusted at the woman she had seemingly turned into overnight.

Several years went by and my mother lived a life of self-condemnation that was destroying her. She no longer resembled the mother that had raised me and taught me the ways of the Lord. My brothers and I met with her and told her that we forgive her and told her it was time for her to forgive herself. Although I truly believe she wanted to do just that, I don't think the shame of what her life had become would ever allow her that grace.

I have no doubt that at the age of 48 years, my mother was in fact going through "the change" and that her hormones were completely out of control. I see a familiar trend of her personality changes. Perhaps all she needed was a little hormone replacement therapy. Perhaps she needed some professional counseling. Perhaps she needed her family to refuse to give up on her. Perhaps she needed her daughter to look her in the eyes and tell her 'This isn't you, mom. I know who you are and this isn't you. I believe in you and I'm not leaving you'. Perhaps she needed others to gather around her in prayer and support....rather than leaving her on the battlefield by herself, wounded and dying. My mom lost everything that was precious to her. She lost her marriage of 25 years, she lost her family, every one of her friends, the respect of others, and she lost her dignity. She was battling a hormonal imbalance and depression and no one stayed on the battlefield and fought for her.....not even her daughter. Even though she made some very poor choices during her struggle, my heart will forever ache over the fact that I left her to face her consequences alone.
So I look at her, I hold her hand, and I cry. She just grins at me. She has no idea that we have shared the same path, at a different time and a different place, but we walked the same road. Her sweet, gentle spirit doesn't feel the pain of rejection anymore. She feels no shame. For that I am thankful. I love you, momma. I love you.