By Suzanna Leigh
I dreamed about my mother early this morning. She is 101 now, and I see her about every other day. I watch her slow decline and wonder how long she will continue to enjoy life. Sometimes I dream that she is walking easily again, the way she did in her early 70s. These days, she is wheelchair-bound, her chair a walker with a seat that she can scoot from one end of the house to the other.
In this morning’s dream, her caregiver, Jamila told me that Mom’s breathing was getting shallower and more erratic. I wondered if that is why she is having trouble with memory and getting her words out; her brain is not getting enough oxygen. Perhaps she needs more exercise? She still understands even less commonly used words when I talk to her, but the words she wants to tell me about what is on her mind, just don’t come. Or a similar word will emerge from her mouth. For example, when she wanted to tell me about a party, the family gathering she enjoyed so much, she called it a pack of people.
I brought her photos of family, some of our recent family gathering, and some of when my siblings and I were small children. I put them in a photo album for her to look through when she wants to, and I have gone through it with her every time I bring new photos to put into it. She brightens up and thanks me every time. Yesterday when I brought out the album, she said, “Oh, what a good idea! Thank you!” She had forgotten it existed. But she doesn’t forget us. She recognized my oldest brother, John, when I pointed him out in a photo, remembering that he was here a few days ago, though she couldn’t say his name.
Her eyesight is getting worse. Yesterday, she didn’t recognize me until I was quite close and Jamila said, “It’s Suzanna, your daughter.” Then the sun came out in her smile!
Her memory is going, her eyesight is worse, she doesn’t hear as well, and she has trouble getting her words out, but she is still very present with us. A few days ago, she was sitting at the table and Rich was sitting beside her. Rich’s knee was hurting pretty badly, and I was giving him Reiki. Reiki is much like the “laying on of hands” mentioned in the Bible; I use it as a way to channel the Divine healing energy to where I see it as needed, a form of prayer.
When I told Mom that R’s knee hurt, and that I was praying for it, she frowned in empathy. I invited her to add her healing prayers. She smiled, took off her soft white scarf, and laid it on his knee, a concrete expression of her prayer for him. Later, Rich told me that his knee felt much better, even two days after that.
Spending time with Mom is an opportunity to experience the beauty of her being that is so very alive, even when her senses and muscles are weakening. I sometimes wonder what it will be like when she has left her body entirely, and I remember sensing Bob with me for years after he died. I don’t think she will leave us even when she is no longer a physical presence, and I find that very comforting.
