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The Blessed Time
by
Ellen Rammell |
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There comes a time,
When you have Alzheimer’s
That you no longer know your name.
Or your children’s names.
Or that you have children.
You live in the moment.
If you are happy, you smile.
If you like your food, you eat it.
If you don’t, you spit it out.
There is no such thing as boredom,
Or depression,
Or disappointment.
You face each day with excitement,
For what is going to happen next.
I call this, The Blessed Time.
My father never achieved this.
His losses troubled him.
He kept trying to escape……his bonds.
But my mother is there now.
Content.
Happy.
Satisfied with pudding
Because each pudding is the best she’s ever tasted.
And ecstatic to hear music.
Just about any music, although it must not be loud.
She is super sensitive to loud.
Loud music, loud voices, loud laughter.
And she will tell you to be quiet.
Subtlety is gone forever.
Actually she is gone as well.
And someday the body will catch up with her absent spirit.
Meanwhile, I am glad she loves pudding.
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--Submitted by Ellen on 2011-11-27.
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Bridget:
This is lovely Ellen.
Thank you.
Posted 02/17/2012 10:18 AM
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