She was fifty - three years old. A vast remainder of her life stood in front of her that should have been fulfilled with watching her children prosper, retirement and blissful moment. That was only fair. She had strived through poverty when she was younger, lost her husband at thirty - six, giving her the emotional and financial burden to raise three children on her own, aided others as a CNA for most of her career hood and never succumbed to any of it. So shouldn’t life have been easier for her now? Hadn’t every bad thing already happen? So how did she ended up here?
I was slouching on the sofa in the doctor’s office with my legs occasionally scissoring and my teeth nibbling at my bottom lip. I was hardly subtle, glancing at that fifty -
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But I don’t like to believe the situation or the impact matters, it's how you grow and what you acquire through it. The first few years when my mom developed Alzheimer’s, I selfishly pitied myself and wasted time, not realizing time was allied with this disease and my mom didn’t have enough to spare. To have my mom live now, my brother and I needed to live. We had to live for her. And we’ve made mistakes, we’ve got irritated, and then we woke up the next day and kept going.
There are bad days, that makes me want to give up. And then I like to forget those days, because for every several bad days, there will be one good one. It’s for that day that she wants to take a bath or can recall a story associated with one of the retro t.v. shows. Then I don’t have to believe she’ll completely forget me one day. And I can believe that she’ll come back one day.
I wish I could say I was stronger because of what has happened, but the only strength I have is accredited from the strength of others who helped my family. There have been a majority of people who couldn’t understand my mom’s condition, so they ran. And then there those, who whether or not they understood, found the courage and patiences to help my