Searching for Mother {Part of My Canada Journey}

In the days since my return from Canada, several people have kindly asked me, in various ways, if part of the reason I felt driven to take this trip was because I was looking for a connection to my mom.

Well, yes, I suppose I was.

On the surface, the impetus for my trip was my uncle's unexpected death in October and my subsequent disappointment that I wasn't able to go for a visit to be present at his memorial service and to see all of the gathered family.  But beneath that, there was something more that was drawing me northward: my aunt, of course.

My mother's only sister, she is my strongest link, not only to my mother, but also to my grandmother Dortha, to my great-aunt Rosa Lee, and to my great-grandmother Grace, whose name I carry as my middle name.  All these simple but strong women that I had the privilege of knowing personally run in a line, straight down to me, and now that I have a daughter, to Moriah; and I wish I could reach back in time and touch them again, and listen to them, and see their faces, and ask them questions.

My mother's Alzheimer's Disease is so advanced that any kind of conversation with her is one-sided.  She's a good listener, I'll put it that way.  ;-)  But there are not many meaningful words that come from her lips anymore, and that is a tragedy.  More than anything else I miss--her cooking, her help with folding my laundry, her willingness to help care for my children, our fun shopping trips to thrift stores together, etc.--more than anything, I miss our conversations.

Of course, my aunt isn't my mother.  Of course, she couldn't take that place entirely--and wouldn't expect to.  Of course, there will always be a special spot in my heart that can only be filled by my one true mother.  But in the void left by my disappearing mother, my aunt helps to fill that gap.

During this trip, for example, I was able to ask Aunt Joyce some questions I wished I had asked my mom before her decline.  During breakfasts of hearty, delicious granola, we talked...and while making yummy butter tarts, we talked...and while walking over snow-packed ground to get to the main building on the farm, we talked...and while taking down a wallpaper border in one of the rooms of her house, we talked.  We talked about pretty much everything.  :)  Aunt Joyce listened, she shared things from her own life, she told me tidbits about family history that I hadn't known, she answered my questions.  Our conversations strengthened the heart-bond that grows stronger every time we're together.

Those of us whose loved ones are slipping away--either through dementia or some other disease, like cancer or strokes or any number of other sicknesses--sometimes do funny things to try to reach out and cling to them.  Maybe it is true that one of the motivations for my trip (although certainly not the only one!) was this kind of clinging.  But even if it was, I really don't think my aunt minded.  :)  Her warmth and hospitality--so like my mother's used to be--was soothing balm for my heart that always feels pierced by a slowly-revolving knife as I mourn the slow but steady loss of my mother.

Tonight I whisper an extra thank-you to God for the gift of the incredible mother He gave me.  And to that, I add an additional prayer of thanks that my mother has such a wonderful sister!  :)