Opinion: On Mother’s Day, remembering my mom after her decade of battling dementia


In Portuguese, my mom’s native tongue, there may be one verb, lembrar, meaning each to recollect and to resemble or remind, the excellence perceived solely in context. A few years in the past, whereas I used to be touring overseas with an American good friend, my mom requested me to name on an outdated classmate of hers that I had by no means met. Throughout our go to, he spoke in painstaking English for the advantage of my bewildered companion, remarking repeatedly: “You keep in mind your mom very a lot.”

It’s true, much more so as we speak. As I get older, my hair grays, my options sharpen and the variations of shade and youth that when informed us aside fade away. Nearly each time I visited my mom in her assisted residing facility, a employees member would inform me how a lot we seemed alike. I keep in mind my mom very a lot. However within the final couple of years of her life, it was uncommon that my presence sparked even a glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

Dementia began stealing my mom away earlier than my daughter acquired to know her. Typically forgetful of the easy mechanics required to maneuver her physique, my mom was already shaky on her toes when my daughter was born. I delicately however steadfastly didn’t enable her to carry her granddaughter until she was safely seated. By the point she took her first steps, my mom commonly forgot her granddaughter’s title. By her second birthday, we had put our home available on the market so we may transfer in with my mother and father to assist take care of my mom.

Our household ate dinner collectively each night time. At first, my mom insisted on cooking, however after a number of charred pots of rice and open flames left unattended, we steered her towards washing greens and setting the desk. She took enjoyment of watching my daughter grasp abilities — how you can minimize meals, how you can string phrases collectively to type a sentence — that she herself was forgetting. Her pleasure was bottomless, as she couldn’t keep in mind from in the future to the following what developmental leap we had all witnessed the night time earlier than. Quickly my mom started dropping plates, spilling drinks and breaking glasses frequently. My daughter rapidly discovered one other elementary activity in our family — how you can step round shards of glass whereas fetching the broom and dustpan.

After dinner, I acquired my mother prepared for mattress. I helped her use the bathroom, brush her enamel and wash her face. I’d change her into the pale, flowered cotton nightgowns she favored after which lie down beside her. We talked and held palms till she closed her eyes. Though by then her nice motor management was fickle and he or she struggled to seek out phrases, my mom all the time excelled at mimos — gestures of affection.

One night time, she reached out to cup my face with a certain hand. Tears on the corners of her eyes, her fingers traced my options, lingering on the sturdy bridge of my nostril that she known as my inheritance. She held my gaze and whispered, low however clear, “You’re the smartest thing I’ve ever made.” Arrested by her sudden eloquence, I managed solely to kiss her hand in response earlier than she fell asleep.

I closed the door to my mother and father’ bed room behind me and walked down the hallway to seek out my daughter nonetheless awake. Taking on for my husband, I helped her use the bathroom, brush her enamel and wash her face. Collectively we discovered her favourite R2-D2 pajamas buried among the many covers of her unmade mattress. After studying a few image books, we turned off the lights and cuddled. Settling into what had grow to be a well-known routine, I held her hand and informed tales of her grandmother’s braveness and competence — hallmarks of immigrant motherhood.

There have been huge adventures: how Grandma, as a younger lady, traveled alone 1000’s of miles from Portugal by steamship and prepare to Michigan, a spot so chilly she needed to be taught a brand new manner of strolling, selecting her manner throughout the ice towards a unique life. Then there was the extra mundane however no much less extraordinary: how after lengthy days and an arduous commute, Grandma would conjure — from leftovers, copious garlic salt and sheer willpower — a desk stuffed with aromatic meals and rowdy dialog each night time. I didn’t understand there have been tears streaming down my cheeks till I felt my daughter’s scorching little palms wiping them away. She traced the arch of my forehead, the hook of my nostril and informed me how a lot she liked me.

When my daughter was a new child, the lengthy hours I spent immersed in her care brought about me to lose my sense of self in an nearly palpable manner. These early days, once I caught a glimpse of my reflection within the mirror, I used to be typically startled to see my very own face, and never my daughter’s, staring again. Towards the backdrop of my mom’s quickly deteriorating situation, I understood my momentary confusion as a measure of how the seemingly infinite ministrations of care could make us overlook who we’re. Over time, my daughter’s explicit model of unabashed affection has taught me that every mimo I move right down to her is definitely an act of remembering.

My mom died in December, after enduring dementia’s cruel progress for greater than a decade. This month, my daughter bounded into her eleventh 12 months. In the way in which that youngsters search themselves of their households, she asks how she is like her grandmother extra regularly since her passing. As I reply, they each come into sharper focus. Selecting from an ever-growing listing of traits, I inform my daughter she inherited her grandmother’s quickness of thoughts and mood; her magnetic heat; her sharp tongue; her joyful resourcefulness; her fierce curiosity and compassion; her very small toes and really darkish eyes; her dusky snigger that tickles others into becoming a member of.

I do keep in mind my mom, and my daughter will too.

Julia Figueira-McDonough is a caregiver and lawyer in Los Angeles.