Today my mom turned 82. She didn’t know it was her birthday, but I did, so I knew it for us both. The last birthday that she knew it was her birthday was two years ago on her 80th birthday. This day was not to be one of those days where we would be making special birthday memories together. The snowstorm that arrived today made travel difficult, and shoveling out the end of the driveway a challenge. Instead of visiting, I ended up calling her on the phone, not really sure what to expect. I did not get my hopes up, but set a goal of making her happy.
I have so many wonderful birthday memories of my mom; the most kind, loving and special woman I have ever known. I remember when she turned 60, I had a huge party for her at my house and I made a Martha Stewart garden birthday cake. It was her favorite, a yellow cake with buttercream frosting. I had gotten the idea from watching Martha herself, as she created an amazing cake for a friend of hers who loved gardening. It had an oreo cookie “dirt” garden path, a garden fence, and silk flowers in the garden. I remember I enlisted my kids to help paint garden signs to place on the cake. I had to throw the first cake away and start over, because my oven ran hot and it was overdone, even though I had set it for less time than the recipe called for. The second time, it turned out perfectly and is probably the best cake I ever made. I had finally made something that seemed worthy of the person who was just like Martha Stewart, only better.
My mom was absolutely the best mom anyone could hope for. The delicious birthday cakes she made for our birthdays alone were enough to love her. Every single thing she did was done with love. Caring for others was never a chore for her; she truly enjoyed it. Even when I was an adult, she sent chicken soup when I was sick, chocolate chip cup cakes when times were tough, and homemade biscotti or oatmeal chocolate chip cookies for an extra special treat. I couldn’t wait to have dinner because everything she made tasted as good as all the love she put into it.
In recent months, at times when I am really missing her, I have prepared many of my favorite dishes she used to make. I believe I have brought the term, “comfort food, ” to a whole new level. I never imagined I would be missing my mom as I do now, while she is still here with us. It didn’t cross my mind that my awesome mom, who devoted her life to me, my dad, my siblings and my kids, would one day that seemed way too soon, not even know me.
My mom did so much more than cook and bake. We did craft projects, went on walks, listened to music, and watched lots of musicals. She read poetry and stories to us every night, and encouraged my love of reading. She taught me to sew, knit, crochet and to do crossword puzzles. She taught me all about the world around me and how to appreciate nature, without even realizing it. She simply shared all the things she loved to do. Life with my mom was a wonderful adventure. Even though she had slowed down a bit by then, she was an amazing grandmother. I don’t know if she ever felt appreciated, but I sure hope that she did. Because nothing she could have done would have made me love her more.
My mom inspired me to be a parent, and I longed to be even half the mom that she was to me. She always had the right words to share, when I was down or discouraged. The phone calls, text messages, cards, letters, articles, and food she sent to me, let me know I was always right there at the front of her mind. A magnet held my work schedule on the refrigerator so that she would know when to call me. It felt wonderful to be thought of as much as she thought about me. I don’t know exactly when or how that began to change, but one day she just stopped calling, and never called again. Many months later, I would get a confused phone call, but it was never really my mom on the other end of the phone again.
I believe my mom knew that her memory was failing or at the very least she knew something was going horribly wrong, but she kept it hidden from me. I have recently learned that this is a pretty normal behavior for many who go through this, and particularly is normal for my parents’ generation. Thinking back, the only real inkling I had that she was aware something was going wrong, is that when she decided to have my son come live with them so she could send him to Catholic Central High School, she said to me, “I prayed to God to help me get Vlady to graduate from high school, and once I’ve accomplished that, I will be at peace and my work here on earth will be completed.” Even then, I noticed she often forgot things we had discussed in relation to him, but I dismissed it as normal aging. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Mom lives in a different world from me now, and once I realized things were never going to get better, I have tried to become a part of her world whenever I visit or talk to her on the phone. Any mental health issues are rather isolating and so life has changed drastically for all family members. I recently attended an Alzheimer’s and Dementia Care seminar so that I could better understand and cope better with my own feelings, but more importantly learn how to enter her world, since it is impossible for her to live in mine. In her world, I do not even exist at all, or if I do, perhaps I am in the second grade. Most of my life has completely disappeared from her mind. I really can’t share memories with her, or help her to remember the things she does remember. Often I wish I could have done something to help her, but all I have is the right now moment and when I am with her, I try to find a way to make her a little happier like she always did for me. I know who she is, and I know it for the both of us, and that will have to be enough.
Today, we had a long phone conversation for her birthday. She didn’t know it was her birthday, and she asked me who the people were who sent her birthday cards. She did not know any of them, but at least she thought they were nice for sending her the cards. She didn’t know who I was either today, and asked me at least 25 times, “what was your name again?” I answered, “Lisa, ” and each time she said, “That’s a nice name.” We talked for a long time today, and she seemed content to talk to me. It was the longest conversation we’ve had in at least a couple of years. When we were going to hang up, or should I say, end the call; I told her, “I love you, mom, Happy Birthday,. You’re the best mom in the world!”
This seemed to please her, and so, she simply said, “Thank you.”
My voice choked a bit with a few tears, but I was especially grateful that she actually liked me and enjoyed talking to me without recognizing who I am. On days like this, I prefer to believe that I seem familiar to her in some small way. And either way, today, she liked me, and that’s enough.
Happy Birthday Mom, I love you and I miss you every single day.
Lisa Calice
Life with Lisa Yogini 