Redheaded Jill

The last few years of her life Grandma was very depressed. I’ve written about it before, I won’t go into great detail, but she wasn’t “herself”. Something I heard a lot and I’m sure I said a lot was, “That’s not Grandma” or “That’s not my mom”. We want our memories of loved ones to be sweet. We want to remember the happy moments, the cheerful moments, the good moments. When you’re caring for someone in their final days who is depressed and very very sick they are understandably less than positive.

I can imagine it’s doubly hard when someone has severe dementia or Alzheimers. Then their personalities can REALLY change. It’s heartbreaking.

But here’s the thing… That is still your loved one. She might not be acting like she did when you had happy memories as a child, but that is still your mom, that is still your grandma, that is still your wife, sister, aunt. We don’t only get to experience the joys of life and we don’t only deal with people when they’re pleasant and feeling good.

Maybe she isn’t acting like herself, but that’s still your family member. That’s still someone you need to love and care for.

Perhaps it’s something people say to comfort themselves. Perhaps it makes their job easier to think, “My mom wouldn’t say that to me, my mom wouldn’t be this rude or unkind.” And can sympathize.

It just makes me sad. I imagine even someone with low comprehension can still understand on a subconscious level. People know when they’re not wanted, we can sense it. People in comas wake up and say they can remember things loved ones have said to them, or these out of body experiences where they see loved ones crying around them or doctors working to save their life. I can’t help but think somewhere in the brains of the sick they know and can sense when they’re being resented.

In rare moments of lucidity a loved one might apologize or cry because they know they’re a lot to handle and they know they aren’t acting “right”. Saying things like, “Why can’t I just die already?” or “What am I still doing here?” Part of them knows.

So… I encourage you to EVEN if you are thinking these thoughts, be careful who is nearby when you say them out loud. Even if the woman in the bed isn’t able to communicate well, she IS the same woman who took care of you growing up, comforted you when you were sick or sad, loved on you when you were your least lovable.

** This is something I’ve thought long and hard about since Grandma passed away. My friend’s mom took care of her elderly mother and told me she didn’t like hearing people tell her, “That’s not your mother” because it WAS her mother. She said, “I wouldn’t be doing all this if it WASN’T my mother.” Then after Grandpa’s funeral this week I caught myself telling some people, “He just wasn’t acting like himself…” Which I find dangerously close to, “That wasn’t my Grandpa.” Because it was. Sundowners and all, that was my Grandpa and I loved him, and he doesn’t deserve to be denied.