An infant discovers the world around them first through their skin, comforted by being held & the warmth of skin on skin. A child clutches a worn well-loved stuffie to her chest. We're there again. Speech, sight, hearing, smell & proprioception fade, but the sense of touch remains.
Very beautiful. I have a different relationship with mom - more of a general-type keeping order and routine. My brother is the affectionate one with her. I created a Spotify playlist for her with all her favourite songs and that playlist is now engraved in me thanks to so many replays (but it's always a novelty for her, as you can imagine.)
Oy. The aides and I know all the words to all the Glen Campbell songs. I don't know how or when she discovered him but it was one of the few artists she'd sing along with. I have an ongoing list of artists because if I don't change things up now and then my head will explode. I mean, how many times CAN you listen to Rhinestone Cowboy before it becomes your legal defense? "Your honor, Rhinestone Cowboy came on the car radio when my client crashed her car into that busload of nuns. In her defense, this was the 3,784th time my client was forced to listen to that one song."
Hehehe, I hear you! We have a chambermaid here in the guesthouse who doesn't speak a word of English, and is quite young, who can now hum the Mamas and the Papas "California Dreamin" almost perfectly.
So beautiful ❤️🙏. I’m always struck with how few photos I have of my parents. I have to remind myself - There was a time we didn’t take them like we do now. But the ones I have mean so much.
My father was a photographer, my mother a showroom model. I grew up in front of a camera (and hate being in front of one now), but there are sooooo many photos and oddly, I've found I enjoy taking snapshots
This is so poignant, and so true, the need to be touched, to feel loved. I marvel at the connection the two of you have shared. The tenderness that accompanies your commitment to caring for your mom is beautiful and visceral. Thank you for this peek inside. Lots of love to both of you. xoxo
Ohhh Jodi, yes to all of this and hugs. I used to sit alongside Dad and hold his gnarled hand (rheumatoid arthritis) or lay my hand on his arm next to him. Human touch is a powerful balm especially for those with dementia. BIG HUG to you.
P.S You're writing is so compelling that I had to read it as soon as I saw it come through ;-)
I have tons of photos and videos. TBH, his birthday blowing out candles and a couple of others are okay-ish to see, but it's painful seeing many of the photos because a lot of it was painful, and the photos bring a lot of that back—traumatic falls, hypervigilance, shouts, and bumps. It's eased a bit now, but the flinch-cringe was auto-response and still is sometimes when there's a thump in the house. Too much adrenalin over too long. BUT your writing does bring back the piercing bittersweetness, heart-wrench LOVE. so thank you.
Very beautiful. I have a different relationship with mom - more of a general-type keeping order and routine. My brother is the affectionate one with her. I created a Spotify playlist for her with all her favourite songs and that playlist is now engraved in me thanks to so many replays (but it's always a novelty for her, as you can imagine.)
Oy. The aides and I know all the words to all the Glen Campbell songs. I don't know how or when she discovered him but it was one of the few artists she'd sing along with. I have an ongoing list of artists because if I don't change things up now and then my head will explode. I mean, how many times CAN you listen to Rhinestone Cowboy before it becomes your legal defense? "Your honor, Rhinestone Cowboy came on the car radio when my client crashed her car into that busload of nuns. In her defense, this was the 3,784th time my client was forced to listen to that one song."
Hehehe, I hear you! We have a chambermaid here in the guesthouse who doesn't speak a word of English, and is quite young, who can now hum the Mamas and the Papas "California Dreamin" almost perfectly.
So beautiful ❤️🙏. I’m always struck with how few photos I have of my parents. I have to remind myself - There was a time we didn’t take them like we do now. But the ones I have mean so much.
My father was a photographer, my mother a showroom model. I grew up in front of a camera (and hate being in front of one now), but there are sooooo many photos and oddly, I've found I enjoy taking snapshots
Absolutely this, Jodi. The importance of touch.
Like the baby monkeys who were raised by wire mothers, and the early AIDS population, we wither and die without it. It takes so little
The progression of the photos brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for this beautiful piece.
I stayed up until 3am trying to find that beach photo....
This is so poignant, and so true, the need to be touched, to feel loved. I marvel at the connection the two of you have shared. The tenderness that accompanies your commitment to caring for your mom is beautiful and visceral. Thank you for this peek inside. Lots of love to both of you. xoxo
For me, I'm comfortable with being the toucher, the comforter, but struggle to accept it back.
Ohhh Jodi, yes to all of this and hugs. I used to sit alongside Dad and hold his gnarled hand (rheumatoid arthritis) or lay my hand on his arm next to him. Human touch is a powerful balm especially for those with dementia. BIG HUG to you.
P.S You're writing is so compelling that I had to read it as soon as I saw it come through ;-)
You are so sweet. I hope you have photos of your father's hands.
I have tons of photos and videos. TBH, his birthday blowing out candles and a couple of others are okay-ish to see, but it's painful seeing many of the photos because a lot of it was painful, and the photos bring a lot of that back—traumatic falls, hypervigilance, shouts, and bumps. It's eased a bit now, but the flinch-cringe was auto-response and still is sometimes when there's a thump in the house. Too much adrenalin over too long. BUT your writing does bring back the piercing bittersweetness, heart-wrench LOVE. so thank you.