It is March, 2024, and I have summoned the courage sufficient to tiptoe back into my prior “life”.
Many of you know that my mom navigated the anguish of mixed dementia: a ravaging thief of the worst kind. In 2018, we noticed that she began to repeat herself. We went through a year or more in denial, embracing good days and rationalizing bad ones. Her decline continued into 2019 when her condition could no longer be denied.
In the first half of 2022, our 89-year-old dad confessed that she needed more care than he could provide. We checked her in to the memory unit of a wonderful nursing home in the county where
they live. (I am not yet able to revisit that set of days – not yet).
For sixteen months, we witnessed her decline. She lost her ability to process, converse, understand, walk, stand, and eat. What she did not lose was her compassion, authentic sweetness, and selfless thoughtfulness.
She met Jesus on my birthday, October 18, and I felt so honored. John and I stayed with her the three nights before she passed, not wanting her to be alone. Those last three days and nights, the staff of the nursing home shared story after story of how much she was loved. Nurses left home and came to see her “one more time”. They talked about the ‘Bible studies’ and the ‘yard sales’ she hosted and frequented.
When Thanksgiving came the following month, I thanked the Lord for the empty chair at the table. She was well and whole. She was reunited with the baby girl she lost to pneumonia, her mother whom she lost way too soon, her sisters and brother, to name a few.
I have dreamed of her twice. The first time was very vivid. I was at a Gaither Homecoming concert and saw her walk by. I ran to her and asked where she was going? She just smiled and said she couldn’t stay.
We are adjusting to a new normal, but our hearts are always turned toward where she is. We long for one more conversation, one more shared meal, one more opportunity to hear her laugh and see her smile.
One day we will gaze on our surroundings and we will know what she knew…. that living here is fine, but we really can’t stay.
Janet Paschal 
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