Rain

This weekend, just when I thought I was familiar with all the faces of dementia, I was introduced to another one. Isolation. Over the course of the last few days at my mother's house I saw into the length of her days, the drawn out periods of time with nothing but time to fill the space. I don't want to imply by any means that her friends and our family have not been supportive, they have. They visit her, they call her, they love her and I am grateful for their love of her and support of us. My daughter and granddaughter spent most of Sunday with us, filling the house with two year old activity and laughter. Her attention to her great-grandmother able to break through the barriers of dementia with no effort.

This isolation I saw is different, it is present whether others are with her or not, it has crept into her and pulled her away from the world she lived in, the world she connected with, the world she loved. Her new world is internal. It holds her old memories, having stolen her more recent ones. Her memories of her childhood, her young adult years and her marriage to my father. These memories, which are more vivid and reliable than her surroundings, keep her company in her isolation.

My attempts to pull her from this world for simple conversation or even to watch a movie were only minimally succesful. I gave up after a few attempts. The struggle too painful for her, for me. As a result my weekend was one of isolation as well. Not something I'm accustomed to.

Hurricane Kyle was supposed to arrive in Maine this weekend. It changed course and we were left with rain, steady and persistent. It reflected our weekend.