That Time

So that time has arrived. My mom was evaluated for hospice, and was approved. It's that time where we cannot visit due to COVID-19, where even if I were able to, the circumstances are such that it is hard to see how this past year has gone down. There is a layer of complication to me processing because this is how it was with my great grandfather. My grandma. Now my mom. I am on my third witness of it. The effects of dementia. The withering of memory, recognition, body. The shitting yourself all the time because you eat liquid meals or because your system just doesn't do things properly. The falling out of bed, over air, and eventually just standing causes the fall. The not knowing who your loved ones even are. It's complicated because I overthink - will this be me? Is my lack of recall the start of this? Is my inability to pull up a word I want to use the slow kick off to this deterioration of the brain? Who will make sure I'm okay?

And you may know, it is complicated with my mom. I had a lot of energy as a child, and I ran like a wild animal for most of like childhood and teen years. That energy was too much for my dad. It was too much for my mom. It ended in a lot of beatings with one parent, and a lot of avoidance for the other. 

And so it is with mixed emotions that I  navigate all of this. Childhood things are popping up. The horrible condition my mom is in is invading my mind's pictures. And a pervasive fear that this will be me eventually is wrapped up in this, too. 

Mostly though I'm just sad for my mom. How her ending is taking shape. I'm hoping this is quicker rather than slower. Less suffering rather than more. More dignity rather than less. And I'm trying to reach back to find good memories before I can't remember them anymore.