I watched her lying so still in her bed.  How could I do this to my own mother!  But what choice did I have?  She had become so ill; she needed round the clock care.  I had to work and couldn't afford a private nurse, so made the hard decision to put her in a nursing home.

      Alzheimer's was slowly invading my mother's mind and body.  It was a difficult thing to deal with.  I remembered our last conversation and knew I had to do something.

     "Mary, why aren't you in school?" Mom asked with anger in her voice.

     "Mom, I graduated college five years ago!"

     "Don't give me that, you're trying to play hooky again! And you already missed the school bus.  You're grounded!"

     I had just moved in with my mother several months ago.  I knew her health was failing and I would have to help.  At the time, I moved in because of her physical condition.  She could barely walk and was going blind. It wasn't good for her to be alone.  Luckily, I had no family of my own, so the situation was perfect.  When I moved in, I knew of the physical problems, but the dementia came on so rapidly, it scared me.  She had good days and bad days.  Lately, most of them were bad.

     While I was in the nursing home, my mother constantly harped on the absence of my father.  I tried to explain to her that he had passed away ten years ago, but she wouldn't hear it.

     "Darn it Sandy, go get your father, he belongs here.  He's always trying to get out of responsibility!"

     "Uh, Mom, I'm Mary, Sandy doesn't live here anymore, and Papa is dead.  I miss him too but you have to under…."

     "Sandy, shut up and go get your father like I asked!"

     What could I do?  I played along with her game, I knew she'd come out of it soon.

     "Okay, Mom, I'll see if can find him."

     I left the room and began crying.  What was I going to do?  I was told by the doctors she wouldn't live much longer.  My mother and I were very close and it broke my heart seeing her go through this living hell.

     I went back in the room and would tell her I couldn't find my father.  As it turned out, that wouldn't be necessary.

     "Mary, is that you?  Come sit and talk to me, it seems I never see you anymore."

     That was strange, I visited her every day, but with her mind, how could she know?

     "Yes, Mom, I'm here right beside you."

     Beside her bed, she had a harmonica that she loved to play.  I didn't think she could play it anymore, when she picked it up and began playing just like nothing had happened.  I sang along to the songs she was playing.  They were her favorites, like 'When she Comes'; 'My Old Kentucky Home', and her very favorite, 'The Little Red Church in the Dell"

     We had a good time laughing and singing just like we used to.  But I knew it wouldn't last.  When she was finished, she looked at me with her loving eyes and said,

     "I always love your visits, it makes me feel so good, but you've been here a while dear, you need to go and take care of your family and my grandchildren!"

     "Mom, I don't…yes that's a good idea."

     I had a feeling that would probably be the last time we'd see each other, but at least it was a good memory.  Sure enough, I got a call later that night.  My mother had taken a turn for the worse.  They said I should come right away.

     I hurried out the door as fast as I could, and was driving was too fast.  I arrived at the nursing home and ran into my mother's room.  She was very drowsy, and didn't say anything when I came in.  I sat beside her and held her hand.

     "Mary, I'm so glad you came.  I'll be with your father shortly.  Oh, I know he's not on earth, but my time is running out."

     "Mom, don't…"

     "Hush.  Let me speak, I have some things to say to you.  First of all, you've been a wonderful daughter and I'm so glad you came to live with me.  Tell your sisters that I love them.  I'll be gone very soon now.  But always keep me in your heart the way I kept your father in mine."

     This was so strange; it was like the Alzheimer's had just disappeared.  As I was holding my mother's hand, it slipped out of my mine.  She was gone.  It was over.  Tears began to flow and wouldn't stop.  I knew the pain she was in was now over now.  So when I felt sad about anything, I would remember her joy with the harmonica.  I looked at it, tears began to flow again.  But she was so happy with it.  So as a reminder of the good times, I took it home, and placed it in front of her picture, where I could always remember the one day Alzheimer's went away.      

                                                        Mary Lacey
                                                           2011