I am not a doctor. I am providing information based on experiences that my mom has with natural remedies. The purpose of this blog is to help folks to educate themselves. Use this information with your own discernment.

20 December 2009

Where Is Everyone? Don't I have kids?

I'm not sure if it's the Christmas holiday that is approaching or if it's some other reason, but my mom has been asking me for a few days now, "Where is everyone?  Don't I have kids?  Where are they?"

This morning she packed a bag, ready to go to her home.  Dressed only in a night gown and her favorite red sweater, holding her bag, she was ready to go.  She's looking for her kids, like a mother cat who has been separated from her kittens. 

How do I respond?  I've tried with out any luck to get my family together since we moved from my home to my new husband's house.  I am giving up.  Mostly because I build up my hopes, hopes where I will see everyone here, like the old days, but the old days are that, old.  They are distant memories that I treasure but they are also the memories that set me up for disappointment.

Maybe I was in my own fantasy world in my mind, believing that I have a family, one that would help me when I need them.  The sting of the reality of being abandoned by ones family sucks, especially when I believed my family would be here for me no matter what.  After all, it is what my dad preached to us and taught all of us kids during our childhood.

Stay together, your family are your only true friends.

Sadly, I was wrong.  No one cares when death is involved.  Everyone is too busy, rushing here and there, with some purpose only known to them, anything that will keep them from facing their own mortality is more important.  I have cried over this realization but now, I know there's nothing I can do so I'm letting it go.  Fuck it.  No more tears.  Why should I cry if no one cares?  I care.  I can only control me.

Even though my family appears to have forgotten us here, I still love them.  All of them.  It's probably why it hurts.  Ya, it's my ego getting in the way, I'm still Sue, the Sue who can cry at the drop of a hat.  It's who I am, I am not sorry for who I have become.  I love me.  Even the me who cries.

I always loved Christmas and being with my family.  But this year, I don't want to see them.  I don't want them around me.  I want to be alone with my new family, the people who are here for me day in and day out.  The only ones that I know I can depend on.  Right now, that's what I need, nothing more, nothing less... family love, love that I know doesn't just come around on 1 or 2 days a year.  My mom, she won't remember that anyone was here anyway, she barely knows who I am.

Mom keeps asking about her kids.  Where are they?  She asks, "I need to see birth certificates, I know I have kids."  She forgets that Ed is dead and asks me where he is.  I miss Ed.  I know that he would have helped me with my mom.  I like to believe that he'd be here to give me a day off so that I could enjoy life, even if it is for a few hours.  I believe this because Ed visited every Sunday when he was alive, he was my best friend. 

The most difficult part of care giving for a parent who is losing their mind, is answering questions like the ones my mom keeps asking, "don't I have kids?  Where are they?"


  1. I hear the stress in your writing, Sue. It has to be so very hard from moment to moment. Bless you for what you are handling.

  2. Sue, I know where you're coming from, I was my father's caregiver for the last year of his life, with no help from my 5 siblings.
    It was very stressful at times, but I wouldn't trade one minute of those very personal times with my Dad. When he passed away in February, I was there, which was only right. I pray for you every day, my friend. Please take care.

  3. I felt so sad reading your post, Sue. I am one of your relatives who is now so far away. Even though my current disappointments don't involve immediate family, there is still sadness about friends who let me down when I thought I could count on them.

    I continue to be amazed at your caregiving abilities.

  4. As they say, you can choose your friends, family, not so much. I was in your shoes, and although not a fun spot, I can assure you. When all is said and done, you will be standing tall with absolutely no regrets. I feel no empathy for those that choose to distance themselves, ignoring, or because of their own fear refuse to face reality. They, unfortunately I would say in a few years (if that long) be the one's beating down your door for advice to help them cope with their loss.

    Luckily with your mom's condition, those questions will come and go. Divert and distract seemed to work for us. My FIL would always be asking about his deceased daughter. I made her lunches, snacks, and set up beds for her from time to time.

    Peace be with you and your family (of your choice) this holiday season. There's nothing wrong with shedding tears.

  5. Thank you all for your kind replies.

    I am fortunate having one sister who helps when she can.

    Absolutely no regrets with what I've done to help my mom ... when it's over, I'm out of here, leaving no forwarding address. The next phase of my life is all about my husband and me.