We have the ability to look at a bleak situation and still find something to be thankful for.

With the hot summer approaching, the residents of Mom’s care facility have weekly ice cream treats at tea time. A small cup of sorbet with a long-handled spoon. Mom is handed the cup and she automatically knows how to scoop a little at a time into her mouth, relishing every bite. Not like her toothbrush. I tried to get her to brush her teeth this afternoon, but those automatic reflexes just didn’t kick in, and she wouldn’t let me brush for her either. I even sang the toothbru

How quickly I go from elation to despair—from reveling in my brother Simon’s impromptu three-day visit to anguishing over the person most missing from our core family gatherings. The person. The one colorful, generous, loving, joyful mother who sits in her closed Alzheimer’s ward with no concept of being missed, no concept at all of who we are or what we mean to her, or she to us. Today when we visited, we sat outside in the courtyard in the warm sunshine and played ball to s

What a hoot! I spent a glorious day with my dad and brother Simon in Netanya. They had been staying there for a few days’ vacation when I joined them for a day out. It was thrilling to get up at the crack of dawn, rush out the door and catch the train as I had done so many times in the past when I visited Mom and Daddy on a weekly basis. I arrived after a year’s absence and again felt my love for this dynamic city. Oh, the stores, the ice cream, the calm ocean waves, the view

Finding happiness in the little things is something that I work at. It doesn’t necessarily come naturally when it relates to Mom. It is fleeting and precious and unpredictable. When we went out to dinner for my birthday this past Sunday, Mom wasn’t with us. My brother Simon briefly contemplated the idea of signing her out of the home and bringing her along, but we knew she wouldn’t be able to negotiate the experience. Think about it. Restaurants are often dimly lit at night t

My brother Simon is arriving this Friday for a two-week visit! I am so excited to see him, and also a little trepidatious—he has not seen Mom since she moved to the closed Alzheimer’s ward. Simon has spoken to her by video chat quite often, and he gets daily updates from Daddy about how she’s doing. But this will be his first in-person visit. I hope it will not be too much of a shock. I was with Simon in California when Mom was first moved in May. I sobbed achingly and mournf

“Hello, who’s this?” Mom asks suspiciously. “Hi, Mom,” I reply as distinctly as I can. “It’s your daughter, Miriam.” Talking on the phone with Mom is hit or miss. Sometimes she’s sure of how to talk into the receiver, other times she’ll pick up her glasses or even a tissue lying by her bed before she finds the right contraption. When my brother Simon makes his daily call, he calls my dad’s cell phone. That way Mom can see Simon’s photo when she talks to him. “Oh, Miriam,” she

The day my brother Simon left, Mom threw a temper tantrum when she and my dad were out enjoying an afternoon stroll. She used the foulest of language towards him and refused to walk home with him. Daddy managed to convince her to follow him, but her anger persisted all the way into the apartment. Was there a connection between Mom’s outbursts and Simon’s departure? There’s no real way to know, but perhaps Mom was telling us how much she misses him as best she can. Not that sh

We took Simon out to a fancy restaurant to celebrate his impending 50th birthday. We had a laugh-filled evening, despite it being harder and harder to take Mom out to eat. Mom can’t always remember how to use a fork or knife, or eat a sandwich, or she removes parts of the meal from the plate claiming it belongs to someone else. She purses her lips when we try to help and pronounces loudly that she is not a child. We try to placate her as best we can. My dad, Simon and I remin

My brother Simon is here for a visit! He is all laughter and warm hugs, and it is a pleasure to be around him. I arrived early at my parent’s house in order to spend time with him and with my parents; it’s not often we are together, the four of us, our nuclear family. We slip easily into our familiar roles, recalling family jokes, reworking the same silly arguments. And yet, we are older now, perhaps wiser (and definitely crankier). How protective we’ve become of Mom. She is

Two weeks since I last wrote and my mom is still ill. She has a urinary tract infection that won't go away. She's been on three types of antibiotics and because pills have now become difficult for her to swallow, we're dissolving them in cranberry juice. While I was away, my brother Simon arrived from California for 10 days to help out. And this weekend, they all came to visit me—Simon, Mom and Daddy, along with my oldest and his wife, plus the two kids who still live at home

How is it that poetry can stir such strong memories? I accompanied my mom to her monthly poetry class where they read and discuss poems on a specific topic—this month, work and occupations—with sources from the Torah, medieval Jewish poetry, Robert Lewis Stevenson, Walt Whitman, D.H. Lawrence, Seamus Heaney, Philip Larkin, and Philip Levine, among others. It was clear from the British participants, as opposed to the Americans in the room, that a greater emphasis was placed on

Here’s something you many not know about Alzheimer’s. Loss of smell is an early warning sign for Alzheimer’s and other neurological diseases.* When I go on line to learn more, I discover that much of what we experience in the context of the disease is uniquely personal. Smell is not the only sense that is affected by the disease. Alzheimer’s sufferers are often sensitive to noise. I’ve noticed this with Mom. When we sit in an overly noisy restaurant where lots of conversation

...or, One Knish, Two Knish... I’m guessing most of you, like me, imagine ourselves looking different than we really are. Maybe in our imagination we’re svelte, or our ears stick out less, or our hair is longer. Maybe our eyes are blue instead of brown, and our clothes the latest fashions. But to look at a recent photograph and not recognize ourselves at all, that’s rare. That’s what happened yesterday with my mom. It’s been a busy week! My in-laws are here from Maryland to m