Free At Last

My beautiful, gentle mother, Theresa, was released from the bondage of Alzheimer’s disease Friday afternoon, Sept 5th, 2008. Although the worst of her suffering occurred during the end-stage, in hindsight, from the first symptoms until her death she probably had the disease for at least 8 years. This is consistent with what research shows about the disease, that from onset to death, the average length of time is about 10 years.

In those early years of her illness, we didn’t realize that forgetfulness, repeating questions, and other mildly unusual behavior was anything other than getting older. And my dad, her champion and protector, covered so well. When she stopped cooking, he made it seem as though he enjoyed it and it was his turn after all these years. When she stopped driving, he’d often tell her that maybe she’d drive again “when she was feeling better” He was so quietly diplomatic and face saving. Rarely, if ever asking for help.

I see it all clearly now, I didn’t then.

As things began to get worse, we got more involved, but still, he took care of her. His patience, love and quiet suffering…we knew she was declining but had no idea how bad it was. When he died suddenly 2 years ago, the grief of losing her partner of 63 years was too much for her to bear. She plummeted, and my siblings and I got a crash course into this devastating disease.

Alzheimer’s Disease is becoming a national tragedy. While more deaths still occur from cancer, heart disease and other ailments, Alzheimer’s is now the sixth leading cause of death in America. In 2008, there are over 5 million Americans with Alzheimer's. Experts predict that 10 million baby boomers will develop Alzheimer's in their lifetime. This disease is quietly growing into a national epidemic.


It’s an insidious, cruel illness, not only robbing the victim of their memory, but also, the very essence of their personality. It begins a process of grief and loss that can last literally for years. My mom’s been gone for awhile, and yet, there were days when she would smile at me with some level of recognition. Days when I would walk in and say "hi mom" and she respond "hi honey". On those days of lucidity, my siblings and I would go home and send a family email, sharing a ray of sunshine; as if there was a glimpse of hope with each story of recognition. Those moments were gifts.

We can read the research reports, and listen to the doctors, nurses and caregivers speak from their experience. We can share stories with other families who have loved ones suffering; but in the end, we can never really know what level of cognitive ability the suffering patient has. Every person is affected differently, every family has different experiences.

My niece was getting married Saturday, the culmination of a year of planning. My mom let go the day before, and I'd love to think it was because she wanted to attend. After years looking at, through and past us as we sat with her; on this Saturday she and my dad were looking down and she was saying "Wow, it's so great to see everyone. I haven't seen any of you in years, and now I see you all because I am free...at last!"

At last.

Note: I wrote a blog last September that was, an ironic but somehow appropriate prelude to this one. Code To Freedom