MuMu....

I hung out with my mum back in Australia in April and had the chance to spend almost 3 weeks with her and the rest of my family just chillin. For those of you that don't know, my mum was also diagnosed with stage one dementia around that time and right around the time this photo was taken (from a webcam session with my sweetheart Jamie, who got to meet my mum for the first time via webcam) she sat next to me on the couch, put her hand on my knee and her head on my shoulder and said, 'well, it looks like you are losing your mum.'

I think I have been acutely aware of the fact that my mum will die, or be taken from me,  since I first realized it when I was about 12 years old. That thought has often reduced my heart to a thumping mess since that time. Watching her get older over the years, watching her lose the people she has loved and have to move on, to start life again has been tough and heart breaking. Sometimes, I am sure it's the same for me now as it was for her when I was growing up. Having her heart broken by my choices and my teenage words.

In the four months that I have been gone though I have indeed begun losing my mum. I hear stories from my brother and sister about their experiences with her. The lies she tells to get more medication, or to not eat or to not shower. The frustrations they feel over trying to explain to her and to her carers, that she has indeed had her quota of pills (this after working out she was taking her daily dosages, and then some, all at once and telling everyone she hadn't taken anything) and has indeed had visits from them and isn't all alone, as she tells them.  I have weekly conversations with her where I sit and listen to the same stories again and again, laughing in all the right spots, trying to work out out new questions I can ask her that might help jog her memory and get her to know she just told me that three minutes ago. Only to find out later through my brother & sister that none of them are true. I feel bad that I am not closer, to help them through it and to be there for her as well. I hear their frustrations and fears around it all and feel pretty useless over here.

Sometimes the only thing that has kept me here in the US over the last 10 years is my mum saying to me that she knows I am following my heart and doing what I want to do with my life, and for that she is proud. I know she has always missed me. I know she has always been excited beyond belief about me coming home to be with her. I know she has always been standing in my corner believing in my life and my choice to be here.

But.

I am losing her.

Infact, I feel like there is a huge chunk of her that I have already lost in the 4 months that I have been gone.

I am trying to work my way to getting back to her for a visit as soon as I can but of course, an independent artists budget doesn't always stretch that far and airfares just continue to go up and often times throughout my day, I wonder if I am doing the right thing.

I know she still has time left on this earth, but in what form? This is what scares me. To watch her slip further and further into what seems like a horribly lonely, sad, confusing existence. I can barely stand the thought of that.

It just doesn't seem fair.....

 'Old age is no place for sissies'
                               Bette Davis