Photo by Food Photographer David Fedulov on Unsplash

Acceptance — (My Mom’s Alzheimer’s)

1 Acceptance

It’s a sweet morning. The rain had washed the earth, the palm trees are shining with vibrant newness. As I come out of a sweet, deep meditation, the call to Acceptance still rings in my ears. Acceptance is the path to change. Today, I am to accept people and circumstances as they are.

I walk into the kitchen to find my mother, dressed in what amounts to five different outfits: a pair of pants, a skirt, a dress, a top and a windbreaker along with her socks and sandals. It is the height of summer and even at seven A.M. the A/C is already working hard at keeping our space cool. Beads of sweat are forming on her forehead, but she refuses the suggestion to lessen the layers.

She has taken food out of the refrigerator which sits untouched, while she opens a sweet treat. She denies any knowledge of the abundance of bagels that she eats each morning. There are bags of bagels in the fridge and freezer to match her long-standing preference for this as her morning meal, along with fruit, yogurt, oatmeal, breads and various leftovers. But she stands, lost. Having made her coffee, she is unsure of what to do; the sweet treat within reach becoming the obvious option. She switches on the stove, heating water, even though she has already made her coffee. I lead her gently through our morning routine of preparing her bagel, ham, butter.

“Let’s get a plate, let’s toast the bagel, here’s a knife. Let’s add the butter….“

It’s time to accept the unacceptable, be at home with the unimaginable. It’s time to surrender.

DAB (Dixie Ann Black)

@DixieAnnBlack