From Here to There

Five days ago I was a little worried that I wouldn’t get everything done (that I wanted to get done) before the trip.  My drop-dead date for final preparations is March 3o.  It’s likely that most people would feel okay with less than 7 weeks to plan for a 6-week European vacation.  Of course, I’m not like “most people.”  I like to plan.  Especially when it comes to planning and organizing major life events (or minor ones for that matter).  It goes hand-in-hand with my passion for creating lasting images of the memories surrounding major/minor life events – my passion for recording history.

That passion for recording history is the primary thing that my father and I had in common. We were both scrap bookers from a very early age.  And that is why I’m in possession of the scrapbooks and photos maintained by 4+ generations on both sides of the family. It’s a tremendous honor to be the custodian of this history.  I am the Memory Keeper.

Four days ago my trip-planning process came to an abrupt halt.  I got news that made me realize my mother won’t be with us very much longer.  So I’m flying back to MN in a few weeks to see her.  To say my goodbyes before I leave for Europe because I don’t know that I’ll ever get to see her again.

I’d been rather matter-0f-fact about the state of her health up until now.  I knew the Alzheimer’s had stolen all of her short-term, and most of her long term memories.  But she’s been in pretty good physical health – only one minor prescription for these past many years and a good appetite.  She’s fallen a number of times, but has had nothing but bruises as a result (i.e., no broken hips).  She’s gone through a few rough spots in the past few years, but always rebounded quickly. Sure she moved slowly – like an 89-year-0ld who was never physically active in her younger years (I am now visualizing myself in 30 years…), but she was still moving. Still insisting she do everything for herself.  But she fell again three weeks ago, and this time it’s become apparent that both her mind and body are ready to give up the fight.

When I see her in a few weeks, I know that our conversations will require me to take the lead, and I’ll have to draw out responses to my questions to keep it going. She doesn’t contribute much to a conversation since she can’t remember any further back than a minute or two, and I can only ask so many yes/no or “what do you see/feel right now?” questions.  So I thought I would prepare for this trip by scanning pages from the family scrapbooks that I could take with me, and that we could sit and look them at together.   If she doesn’t recognize the faces in the pictures, I can re-acquaint her with the people that she used to know.  I may even be able to remember, and re-tell, some of the stories that she used to tell me.

It’s been the process of looking for pictures of her youth – those longer term memories that she is now losing altogether – that has unearthed the emotions I’ve been avoiding for the past several months.  The sadness and pain that comes with knowing you’ll be saying that final goodbye to a parent.  Since it’s possible she won’t be here when I get back from Europe, I realized that what I’m really doing now is pulling together a pictorial eulogy – those pictures and memories that will inevitably be displayed on poster-board at her memorial service.

Suddenly the grief hit me.  But I’m just not prepared to feel the grief – not yet anyway.  So, after shedding a few tears, I’ve redirected my focus to my goal to help keep the tears at bay.   I’ve gone back to the search for and scanning of photos and newspaper clippings of major and minor life events from the last 89 years of my mother’s life.

The Memory Keeper is looking forward to the privilege of seeing her mother once again, and taking her mother back into the memories that she can’t get to by herself.  And if I’m successful, I’ll have the even greater privilege of seeing her smile when the memories return to her, even if only for a moment or two.