I can’t believe the Passover holiday is already so far behind us. It feels like a wonderful, warm memory. Mom couldn’t be at the Seder with us, but we sang one of her tunes that she learned while singing with her choir, Zemer Chai. In fact, it was a tune I searched for desperately but could not find. Not among Mom’s musical scores or on any website. In desperation, I contacted the choir, wondering if anyone would remember Mom. It turns out that there are still a few old-timer

The holiday of Passover starts this week. But Alzheimer's sufferers will not recognize that Friday night will be different from all other nights. When I saw Mom today, I sang some of the Passover songs she’d taught us as kids. There’s the song about frogs jumping on Pharoah’s bed; she remembered that one. My favorite is a haunting melody to Ha lachma anya (which translates to, "This is the bread of affliction...") that she learned in her choir many years ago that we’ve incorp

It amazes me how easy it is to manipulate Mom by using her Alzheimer’s. I rely on her non-existent memory to help her do things I want her to do. Today, when my husband Jeff and I visited Mom, I could see that her mouth was very dry, so I brought her a cup of water. Mom took one sip and said, “That’s water. Uhg. I don’t drink water.” “Oh, okay,” I said, retrieving the cup. Less than a minute later, I handed her the water again and told her, very enthusiastically, that I had b

I tried to sit in silence, but it was painful to listen to Mom attempting to answer the doctor’s questions. Mom knew she was having trouble finding the right words. She knew she didn’t know where she lived or what day it was. And she was becoming upset. “Why are you testing her like this?” I asked. “Can’t you see she doesn’t know the answers? What’s the point?” Dr. Avshalom had been sent by the insurance company for a home visit to examine Mom’s surroundings and to test her m

Passover is a little more than two weeks away, and I am overwhelmingly sad about Mom’s inability to participate in the Seder. I’m thinking of suggesting she stay home this year with her caregiver. What with many guests, a late dinner, and an even later bedtime, I’m not sure she’ll be able to navigate the social and religious challenges this evening brings. I will miss her haunting rendition of Ha Lachma Anya, the Aramaic declaration that begins the maggid or narrative section

Getting ready for Passover is always time consuming and stressful. Not only do we clean the dickens out of our houses, but we use special plates and silverware and many food items that are specific to the week of Passover. This year, in addition to cleaning my fridge and oven, I’m adding a new check list of things to do: Make signs that list what’s in the kitchen cabinets. Maybe this will help Mom remember where we’ve put things for Passover as we switch many of our dishes an

“Mom has been very belligerent this morning,” Daddy told me on the phone. I was on the last leg of my journey to their apartment, having boarded the shared taxi from Tel Aviv to Netanya. “She’s been shouting and yelling. She pushed me out of the bathroom and swore at me and called me a ‘dirty old man.’ Then she refused my help getting dressed. I wanted you to know.” I was still about forty-five minutes away, so there was not much I could do, but I did say hi to Mom on the pho

As soon as you start measuring good deeds to determine which is greater, which takes priority over the other—you have already entered precarious ground. Your job is to do whatever is sent your way. ~From the wisdom of the Lubavitcher Rebbe Each night from the second night of Passover, we actively count the days until the holiday of Shavuot. This period is known as the Counting of the Omer. These seven weeks are a time of reflection and personal growth, a chance to take note

Those of us with relatively good health take feeling well for granted. When we get sick, no matter how minor the illness, all that changes. When we're sick, life becomes difficult. It's as if we enter a netherworld, a parallel reality, where even minor tasks become a challenge. Worst of all, we must rely on others to help us function. It takes a strong person to allow themselves to give up control of certain facets of their lives and accept assistance. Add to that the difficu

“Do you think we made Savta happy?” I asked my daughter, Liora, as we were returning from Netanya. (Savta is the Hebrew word for grandmother.) Liora came with me today ostensibly to shop but rain washed out those plans. Instead, she spent time talking with her grandparents. “It’s hard to say,” she replied. “Savta’s moods change so quickly. One minute she’s singing in the middle of the street—just like the movies. Then she says something that doesn’t make sense or she gets ang

All the gates of Heaven are closed except the Gates of Tears. Berachot 32b, Babylonian Talmud The best place to cry is in the shower. You can break down with impunity. You can claim you got soap in your eyes. For only God sees your heartache. Of course, you have to cry quietly. I remember the first time I heard my father cry. He had just received word that his father had died. His sobs echoed in the tiled bathroom and filled the apartment with palpable grief. I was 12. I did

There it is again. That small pause as I try to retrieve a word. Ah, ah, um, think. What letter does it start with? What are its associations? What does it sound like? It’s not there. I can’t get it. Can I create a sentence with an understandable alternative? Wait. Wait. I’ve got it. My whirling brain picks out the exact word I want. Did anyone notice that gap in our conversation? I know I don’t have Alzheimer’s. But I worry that I may one day succumb to it. I read an article

How do we mark the passage of time? Yes, there is the calendar with its cycle of seasons, holidays, and birthdays. And yes, we are by nature different from one year to the next, from one specific date in the year—let’s say our birthday—to the same date the following year; we have aged, lived through additional experiences, come to some truths (hopefully) about whom we are and how the world functions. Somehow, that doesn’t do it for me. I get all muddled when I try and remembe

Passover is a wonderful holiday but it involves extreme changes to routine including switching utensils, closing off cabinets, and buying special kosher for Passover foods. A nightmare for anyone, let alone someone with memory issues. Each day this week when I called my parents to say hello, Daddy kindly asked me to remind Mom that it was still Passover and not to open the cupboards that had been closed. Mom was absolutely furious that each time she tried to take out a cup or

and a little chicken.... “I hope you don’t feel I’m a nuisance,” she said lightly as we were sitting in synagogue. I might have grumbled internally at answering the same questions over and over again. I might have inwardly groaned at helping her find her place in the prayer book at the expense of my own prayers. I might even have quietly rebelled against helping her dress for synagogue or supervising her in the kitchen and at the table, but until she said it, I was content to