I Know the Pain of Alzheimer’s, but I Also Know the Love

They say to write what you know.

I know the pain of losing a parent to Alzheimer’s. I know the pain of grieving the loss of someone you love long before they die. I know the pain of losing more and more of your mom every day.

I know the pain of trying to learn and grow while she is disappearing right before your eyes. I know the pain of trying to build your life while hers is becoming completely undone. I know the pain of trying to prepare yourself for a life without her, even though you’ve already been living without her for a long time.

And now I know the pain of actually, physically losing your mom and somehow finding the strength to go on living without her. These are the things I know and so, these are the things I write. But lately, I’ve been looking for something more. What else do I know? What else can I write about?

A little voice in the back of my head keeps telling me I can’t write about Alzheimer’s forever. That my mom is gone now and one day there will be no words left to write. That I need to create a new life without her, a life after Alzheimer’s. That I need to find something else to write about if I want to keep writing now that this journey has ended.

They say to write what you know. Well, what else do I know? Other than the pain and the grief and the fear of losing my mom to Alzheimer’s?

I know love.

I know the love of caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s. I know the love of showing up day in and day out, even though it hurts to see your loved one this way. I know the love of feeding and dressing your mom, of singing and reading to her, of making her feel safe and loved.

I know the love of doing anything and everything possible just to give your mom a few moments of joy in her day. I know the love of hearing your mom say your name or call you her daughter when you haven’t heard her say it in so long. And I know the love of being so damn grateful for things most people take for granted because I also know how it feels to lose those things.

I know the pain of losing your mom to Alzheimer’s. But I also know the love. The love and the bond between a mother and daughter. A love so deep in your heart and your soul you can feel it in your bones. A bond that nothing, not even Alzheimer’s, can break. No way, no how. Not hell, nor high water.

In searching for something more, I’ve realized I already have it. My story is about so much more than just Alzheimer’s.

My story is about life, love, loss and everything in between.

My story is never-ending.

My story is worth writing.

My story needs to be told.

They say to write what you know, so that’s exactly what I’ll do.