Life is round--like a crystal ball...a sphere, just like a globe.
A thought emerges, just as quickly is lost, simply trapped in the frontal lobe.
My husband? He just disappeared, and this other stranger came.
He talks to me in my husband's voice...but I sure as hell don't know his name.
My children, they don't visit me; and my life feels so bereft.
I don't know who these damned strangers are. They came when my children left.
I know just what I want to say, just as I know what I should do.
But I get halfway into it, and I cannot see it through.
1990? 1950? Well, what the hell! Nothing matters very much.
I just don't care, you see that now... No love, no friends, no touch.
I don't even know myself anymore; and, I surely don't know you!
I can't speak the words I want to say, and I'm confused about what to do.
What is it you expect from me? Damn it! I'm not amused!
I used to be funny, laughing, kind, but now I'm just confused.
Dementia, they say, is troubling me. My thoughts scatter and depart.
It takes my memories of the loves of my life, and their absence breaks my heart.
I miss the days when I saw you, and instantly knew your name.
My days are troubled now, and dark. This Ahlzeimer's thing is to blame.
The world goes around-and still it will-though my being part of it is done.
The days of laughter, of singing, just stopped. I miss my husband, my daughters, my son.
The carousel, the wheel of life, my circle...it is broken.
But, round I go, and round again, though my thoughts remain unspoken.
My dance is over, the music's stopped. And what I just cannot conceive
Is that, though this party is over, you think I don't want to leave.
I keep telling them, I want to go home, I want to be where I belong.
I want to play my own piano, and sing my favorite song.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...why won't you let me be?
I can't understand you, I don't even know you...and you, you can't find me.
Dedicated to Arlene, Mom Extraordinaire
December 7, 1932-January 12, 2008
"A lady always knows when to leave the party."
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Comments: 38
What a great, poignant quote.
This is such a hard thing you have shown the light on, here, and I appreciate the insight.
She looks like the kind of woman it would have been a privilege to know.
This poem is beautifully executed and made me feel who she was.
I'm sorry for your loss.
Achingly sad, yet written with a voice that echoes faintly with hints of the wit and joie de vivre she must have had.
I read so many tributes but not as yours. I bow my head and salute to your emotions and love.Your words kept me wandering deep in your poem.It's a tragedy and I am so sorry for your loss Dear.
your words are immortal and this tribute too.
The last real conversation I had with my MIL was in 2004, since then she's fallen into the abyss of Alzheimers, once in a great while I might get a glimpse of who she use to be, usually she's sealed away from us in a cage she can not escape.
I for one will be happy for her when she is set free.
Kathy: You conveyed the power of this line remarkably well throughout the content of your poem. A content of real and tangible profoundness to which the reader could easily and empathetically relate.
I extend my compassion; and appreciate your having committed your content to Arlene. God Bless.
I also add my sympathies and heartfelt good wishes to you.
This poem should be sent to hospitals all over the country so that caregivers can see things from the patient's point of view.
Congratulations on your win. I am praying for you to feel peace in your time of loss.