Sunday, September 14, 2014 

No, not mom. Her younger sister Rose died in a nursing home at the age of 92. I spent the morning on the phone with various cousins, making plans for a memorial service and a get-together. Later I told mom. She cried for about 30 seconds—if that long. Then resumed watching television. I suppose there are advantages to having no memory at all. Loss does not take hold of you. Mourning does not occur. Even though mom lives with continued loss—loss of independence, loss of her home, her ability to walk well, and her ability to cook and care for herself—she is only momentarily aware of these things as she recalls them sporadically. Whether she is aware of loss on a subconscious level, I cannot say. Surely there must be times a memory is triggered that makes her mindful of her losses. I do not know. But she has not mentioned Rose again today. She does not appear to be sad. I cannot say.

I recall bringing Communion to a woman in a nursing home. She had at one time been well dressed and immaculate. When I saw her, she was disheveled and bewildered and living in the Alzheimer’s wing. During earlier visits, she was able to pray The Lord’s Prayer, but could say nothing else. In subsequent visits, she would only cry, tears streaming down her cheeks, while I said the prayer. I wondered whether she was crying for her loss or because the prayer had brought up an emotional response. I do not know.