Oh how the years go by…

06 Saturday Jan 2018

Posted by Ann Napoletan in Advocacy and Awareness, Face of Alzheimer's, Life After Caregiving, Marilyn's Legacy, Mom, Ruminations, Saying Goodbye

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alzheimers, celebration of life, dementia, grief and loss, mothers and daughters

Five years ago today, we celebrated my mom’s life; a very special day, that cold Saturday in January. Italian food, free-flowing wine, many dear friends and family members, love, laughter, and of course, tears. The gathering culminated in a balloon release that she would have loved.

The sight of those magnificent pearlescent purple and white balloons floating skyward literally took my breath away. It was a symbolic and bittersweet moment I’ll always remember. She had finally been released from the agonizing pain that plagued her in the final stage of Alzheimer’s, yet I had lost my beautiful mama.

Gratitude and the searing ache of loss intertwined in a way I never realized possible.

As the years go by, it almost feels like a dream. It’s hard to imagine that our decade-long journey was real, and that this disease – THIS brain ravaging monster – would take such a strong, intelligent, independent woman.

Here’s to you, Mom. There isn’t a day that goes by that you aren’t on my mind.

Mom Day 2017

16 Saturday Dec 2017

Posted by Ann Napoletan in Face of Alzheimer's, Grieving, Holidays, Inspiration, Life After Caregiving, Mom, Ruminations, Saying Goodbye

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alzheimers, dementia, grief and loss, grieving, holiday memories, mom day, remembering mom

Five years ago, today, my mom became whole again. She found peace after a long, valiant battle against Alzheimer’s. She gained her angel wings. December 15, 2012.

I try to take this day off every year. I prefer to spend it quietly, alone or with my daughter, allowing my mind to go where it will. If tears come, let them come; I really don’t want to be distracted by the minutia of the outside world, nor do I want to hide my emotions whatever they may be.

I started the day with a cup of hot coffee enhanced with a generous pour of Bailey’s – one of my mom’s favorite things! I planned to spend the day baking as I often have on this day over the past five years. Some of my best, happiest (and earliest) memories are of December days spent baking Christmas cookies.

Mom loved to bake and when I was a child, the variety of beautiful cookies on her holiday trays was something to behold. Her cookies were part of the magic of Christmas. My love of baking is no doubt a result of those fond memories and of course, her influence. For years I’ve enjoyed recreating many of the recipes that have been handed down for generations, as well as adding some new ones.

I didn’t rush today. I didn’t get as much done as I had planned, but I really enjoyed the day. I listened to Christmas music, wrapped some presents, had lunch with Jess (sharing some laughs as we always do), and spent a good bit of time simply sitting with my thoughts. I cried and I smiled, thinking of years gone by, and tonight, I poured a glass of wine in her memory.

Another year has passed, and this year, I lost my dad as well. This will be my sixth Christmas without Mom and first without Dad. I’m sad, but there are also moments of peace in knowing they are with their beloved parents and others who have gone before them – the ones they loved so much. Most importantly, they are free of pain. And today, I felt both of them with me…

Mother’s Day 2016

08 Sunday May 2016

Posted by Ann Napoletan in Caregivers, Face of Alzheimer's, Grieving, Holidays, Life After Caregiving, Mom, Mother's Day, Ruminations

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alzheimers, alzheimers awareness, alzheimers grief, grief and loss, mothers day

I’ve been on edge all week for multiple reasons, one of which was surely the fact that Mother’s Day was everywhere I turned. Tomorrow will be the fourth iteration of this holiday since my mom’s passing. While the cutting pain of fresh loss dulls over time, grief remains. Days pass, then months and years; the pervasive ache is more intense in some moments than others.

While I had my car in for repairs a few nights ago, I lost count of the number of Mother’s Day related images that popped up on the television in the waiting area. Across from me, a mother and daughter engaged in an animated conversion peppered with laughter for 90 minutes. Even after the daughter’s car was ready, the pair remained in their chosen spot enjoying each other’s company. After 10 minutes or so, I’m ashamed to say I wanted to stand up and scream, “YOUR CAR IS READY – YOU CAN GO NOW!”

Sometimes when I see mothers and daughters out shopping together or enjoying lunch on a sunny restaurant patio, I’m enveloped in a flood of emotions. Happy memories frozen in time, yet sadness for what might have been – even a hint of jealousy. I want to be doing those things with my mom. I always envisioned her as a sassy, spunky, vibrant 70-something. But I had it wrong.

I’m thankful to know she’s in a better place, reunited with those she loved who were waiting for her on the other side. The thought of her beautiful soul now released from a weary body and muddled mind is comforting to be sure, but it doesn’t make me miss her any less. Still, the notion that her spirit is present in every moment and every beat of my heart is reassuring.

Mother’s Day 2016

Dear Mom,

I can hardly believe this will be my fourth Mother’s Day without you. Over the past several months, I’ve realized that in many ways, I miss you now more than ever. Someone suggested it’s because as life moves on, we yearn to share everyday happenings, milestones, joys, and sorrows with that person who was once such a significant part of our world.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve wished I could pick up the phone and talk to you about anything and everything. Trials and tribulations at work, the thrill of life’s most memorable moments, and the sheer joy and pride that comes with being a mom. I miss sharing laughter and tears – and everything in between.

From the mundane to the extraordinary, I just want to sit and share a cup of tea or a few glasses of wine and a long conversation. It’s sad to think of all the things you’ve missed out on, but that realization fuels the fire that burns deep inside me. I’ll continue fighting this battle until we win. Marilyn’s Legacy: A World Without Alzheimer’s – what a day that will be!

With love always,
Ann

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