Remember.
When I grit my teeth, because I’ve told her seven times, “Put in your hearing aid” – remember how she reminded me to wash my hair and brush my teeth.
When I have to help her get dressed – remember all the times she dressed me and plaited my hair into braids.
When I struggle to get her shoes on – remember how she taught me to tie my shoelaces and practiced with me hundreds of times until I got it just right.
When I have to repeat the same statement over and over – remember how she read my favorite book to me over and over.
When she’s cranky – remember what a bad mood I carry around when I’m sick.
When I’m too busy to call or visit – remember how she came home from working a 12-hour day, changed her clothes and put supper on the table, then drove to the gym so she could watch me play basketball for three minutes.
When I don’t know how I can fit her into my schedule – remember how she rearranged her schedule so that I could take piano lessons.
When I’m discouraged because Alzheimer’s is taking her away – remember that life is fragile and one day in heaven, she’ll be completely well.
Remember.