Ah, Carole, you have written a masterpiece!!
*This insidious thief does not ride in on a horse of many colors*
How true, and heartbreaking!!!
You have touched on the loss and grief of losing a loved one without losing them. The most powerful and sad line of all:
*who is this stranger in my mother’s clothes?*

May God comfort you, and may you know that already your mother's mind is with Him. Peace. Joyce

poignant ... my dad's diagnosis was OBS, organic brain syndrome, it too was a goodbye that went on for years, hard at best

Powerful write, Carole. My mother also has this illness. In its earlier stages it really messes with the minds of us family members because the person is so lucid and like themselves one minute and the next they're not themselves at all, not even recognizing family members or surroundings. You never know if today is your day to be forgotten. I think it's worse when I see my mother, a brilliant woman, on those days when she's aware that she's struggling with recognition and is frustrated that she can't remember. Then I see her pain and not my own. ~~Nordette

oh..how I know what you feel! My granddaddy died 2 yrs ago w/this illness. It was gutwrenching to watch. I wrote a poem for him. I love your expression in this.

Rhonda

Hi Carole:

I know this is hard to see your mother being that way - slipping away.

I have not met with any Alzheimer's patient, so I'm just speaking here as what I know. It is that she forgets who you are to her, that everyday she sees brand new day, and brand new people. People she does not know and cannot remember.

How about being a very kind stranger to her. Let her get to know you again and again everyday, and I'm sure by day's end she will get to know you a lot better? ...and you're no longer a stranger to her by day's end?

I know this needs lots of love ant patience to do so, but making everyday worthwhile for her to know that someone do care about her probably means so much to her than you can ever imagine. Even when at the beginning of the day she regards you as a stranger, but by day's end you are not. That is what all that she might be living for.

...and we, the caregiver, might feel so much have accomplished by day's end; even though we might have to start all over again the following day, but the joy of giving supersede and negative perspective.

This is just my 2 cents worth of opinion. I'm sure you are a great daughter to your mother and you care about her a lot, otherwise you would not have written this poem.

Take care.

Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)

The final line hits like a fist in the belly. Having seen people I love lost in their veil as the disease descends, I understand your sense of loss and isolation. A powerful write.

This is so powerful in emotion and meaning that I am left unworthy to add to what has already been expressed, Carole. I shall simply echo and reiterate respectfully. Thank you for the education. Love, peace, and strength to you.

Regis

Oh, Carole. What can I say? You have done such a beautiful job of
describing {not exactly the word I want} the devastating effects of Alzheimer's on your mother. Each and every case is different, because w e are different, yet at the same time much too much alike.
It was very clever of you to personify the "cause." If only we knew
exactly what it was. Yes, certain parts of the brain are destroyed, and yes, there are proteins involved, but. . .feel like swearing as I think about it. Science ought to have come up with a cure by now!!!
I am so sorry your mother is having to go through this. Y o u.
But at least you are able to use your {very considerable and highly developed} talent to make it clear to people what it is like. Virtually anyone above a certain age has a friend or relative with this dreadful, dreadful disease, but. . .sorry. Reading this triggered so many thoughts and emotions. Obviously! Wounderfully-written, desperately sad. A c c o l a d e s. 'Pea' <3
~~~~A n d you chose the perfect illustration!

A brilliant write ...Carole
You discribe what you observed
with yours eyes and heart
A sad phase of human life,
as we witness Our own destiny
My Mother suffered this dreatful sickness
To ee her in her death bed
Her unale to regognizie me
reaching out towards an empty corner of the room
When asked what are reaching for?
She responded "her that womnan there, My mother"
Yet what we saw, was her reaching, to no one there
That night, she slipped into etrenal sleep.

Bless you .... Peace & Love
William

Oh Carole This really is sucha sad poem and disease. You have really written so from your heart as your heart rips and tears.I've never read anything so truthful ever. Others have tried but this, perfectly says so well. like I read once she may not know who I am but I know who sheis so hang onto the one you know there in your mother's clothes. She is in there in your heart and memories always. See that as you see her and smile so she too will smile with you and both feel comforted.
This is so sad and I truly wish for you strength and send you mine to endure this tragic disease.
Tracey xoox (c :) 42

A beautiful write, Carole! My prayers are with you, my dear!

God bless,

Sandie.

I understand that dimness with the light switch very well Sis. Carole. My grandmother is in a wonderful facility where they are free to just be themselves, but under very close watch. Everyone's light in their eyes is everything from on-off, on-off, to dimming, to total blackout. We were never meant to understand this aging mystery. But I know for me, it's time for me to just be there for my grandmother, even if I had to tell her four or five times in 15 minutes that it was her 92nd birthday the other day. She's healthy, comfortable, and doesn't look a day over 80. But her eyes are peaceful, though not as bright. The soul is in the birthing process of preparing to go to a brand new place. In her eyes, we see dimness, but her soul is brightening to be with God and those who have gone before her, like one of her brothers who also had alzheimers, and died last week. I wasn't sure if she should be told, but my mother and uncle said she could handle it; besides she might put it out of her mind the next minute. I'm going to have to write a short story about that, so watch my A.D. page--inspiration comes at such short notice. . . which brings me to the place in your poem:

She looks, but what does she see
it’s a view from an empty room
where windows to her soul used to be

Here's my theory: They see their childhood, they see what is in front of them for the moment. They see like a child for if you look close enough, the older their moments become to us, the more childlike they are. If they were a tormented child, the torment may come back. If they were a happy adult, they cling to what is happy. But if they felt trapped in life before the disease hit, quite possible (again, just a theory) there is no telling what will release itself. Sad thing is they will never be able to understand what they do, and why.

My grandmother was always a peaceful woman. My husband is amazed that she remembers him, and forgets one of her sons who lives just a few miles from her and never visits. But she recalls her youngest son who lives over 2000 miles a way who, before he moved, hadn't seen her in two year. Grandmama raised me in my formative years.

She remembers her father, and others those who connected with her in a bond that no man on earth can explain. Sometimes she calls me by my mother's name, but then it's like a change of a scene of a play--I can actually "see" her mind refocus by her facial expression. Then she calls me by my actual name.

It's hard. No one else can convince me that this situation does not cut your heart in half. So my prayers are with you. But please know this: God allows her to remember whatever she needs to remaember. Accept her, keep loving and hugging her, pray out loud with her. That maternal bond and communicativeness you had may seem to be fading, from take it from one who in 1975 had been in a coma for three weeks, yet "concious" the entire time while others thought I was unresponsive. My mind was on maximum overdrive. I can't explain where I was, but I was NEVER asleep.

blessin's, please keep smiling through the tears,
cynth'ya lewis reed

"The Endless Goodbye" touches deeply the inner "ME" of any reader,
for the subject dealt through its lines is the greatest enemy of the human being, after DRUG/GAMBLING ADDICTION.

This poem will alert and warn many on the SENSITIVE POINT of this
PLAGUE, and hopifully society will understand it better and work to find a cure for it.

Thank You, Poet, for sharing this "The Endless Goodbye".


Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU

oh, how awful! i am sorry you are having to go through this; my prayers and thoughts are with you today! god bless you during this difficult time in your life; you are in my prayers, as i just said! very good write!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in tx., karen lynn. :( >tears <

These days, this horrible affliction is the silent and feared bane of every person who is getting up in age. I believe that all, not just me, fear this over almost anything. Good poem. Very.

I cannot relate to what this must be like!!You are ion my prayers dear one!!

Thanks for sharing!!

Love Tinka

it must be very difficult for you ... but she's still in there ... try to find alternatives to tap into her ... maybe a flower or a simple smile will remind her of you ...

Oh Carole, you describe it so perfectly it tears my heart to read it. I'm so sorry for you or anyone who has a family member with this thief of minds. I took care of two people for a time with this dread disease, which I think is worse than any,, because it causes you to lose all functions eventually, besides robbing you of your mind.Yu have my love and prayers, and my deepest hope that you will have the strength to get through this intact. The only consolation is that the patient usually doesn't know anything that's happening, because there is nothing left to remember with. Blessings and peace to you my friend!An incredible write!

Love,
Eileen