We were sitting together, the four of us, our core family: my brother Simon visiting from California, my parents, and me. It gave me the comforting illusion of being whole, at least for a few moments. Mom has enjoyed these family visits so much, but only during the last one could she name us all or remember who we were. During the other visits, she accepted us as people she trusts but does not know. We dance with her, sing her favorite songs, laughingly engage her in absurd c

This week marks the 5th anniversary of my blog, The Lost Kitchen, which features the ups and downs of caring for my mom who has Alzheimer’s. Mom was diagnosed eight years ago. And the blog was created a few years later as a platform from which to publicize a book I had started writing back then with my dad, The Man’s Emergency Cookbook. That’s what we wanted to call it, a humorous nod to all the men out there who had to learn to cook because their situations had changed drast

I was deliriously joyful when I visited Mom on Sunday. She was so alive, filled with happiness and seemingly present, and happy to have company. It was such a relief to find her in a good mood. We had a great time together singing in the corridors, walking slowly in the circular hallway, putting puzzles together, and listening to music. I showered her with kisses and affection, and she returned in kind. It is always bewildering to walk into her ward and search her out, not kn

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

It has been two weeks since their move—a week since my brother Simon left—and my parents are firmly ensconced in their new home. Thanks to Simon, almost all the boxes are unpacked and paintings are up on the walls. There’s still more to do, but it can be handled on a more leisurely basis. We’ll get to it “acharai hachagim” (after the holidays), as everyone says here. I did not anticipate the joy I feel at popping over to my parent’s house to say hello. It is still hard to bel