Eight months of taking my mom to synagogue with me each Shabbat ended as abruptly as it started. It was this thought that struck me so powerfully as I stood in shul on Yom Kippur without her. Had I somehow failed her? My parents had moved from Netanya to Beer Sheva in September 2017. It was a move motivated by Mom’s Alzheimer’s. If they were closer to me, I could help out more, be a 2nd pair of hands, allow my dad respite on the caregiver’s day off. Within a week of the move,

Each time I walk Mom home from synagogue and see her safely to her door, I am tinged with sadness. I know I’m doing the right thing by bringing her there with me. I can visibly see the excitement on Mom’s face when she is with me in synagogue. She radiates joy in her whole demeanor. Why then am I disheartened by it? During the extended period of the Jewish holidays, I took Mom with me to synagogue as often as I could. Not only did it get Mom out of the house for a little whil

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