Two years ago, my Mom was diagnosed with Dementia. Those first few months after her diagnosis, I found myself thinking of her a great deal, especially at night. Mom became a widow in 2009 when my dad passed away with cancer. Being a widow myself, I understand the devastation of losing your mate and navigating life alone. When the unexpected stresses and hardships of life become a reality, being alone seems even more intense. 

As I lay there night after night thinking about her, praying for her, and pondering how fearful she must be as a result of her diagnosis, I cried knowing how I would feel facing such an uncertain future without Mark. I am not sure why the darkness of night brings about an abundance of emotions such as fear and anxiety; perhaps it is because everything seems intensified in the dark of night. 

Recently, we moved mom out of her home and into a seniors apartment complex. Eventually we will have no choice but to move her into a Memory Care facility, but for now, this was a wonderful alternative. I found myself reflecting back over her life as I cleaned out closets, cabinets, hutches, etc. Thumbing through family pictures and personal items that spanned 88 years of life was sobering. Truly life on this earth is short. 

I was quickly transported back into my childhood, remembering the mom I had as a child, not the one who now struggles to remember her address and phone number or what she did just one hour before. 

My mom married at the age of 17 and promptly had three children within three years. In the first year of my parent’s marriage, my mom lost her only sibling, Ralph, to a brain tumor at the age of 11. This was a devastating loss for such a young bride and mom. Shortly after his death, she gave birth to my older sister. I came long just fifteen months later. After her third child, my brother, was born, she and my dad left family behind in Ohio and settled in Nashville, Tennessee. Once there, my dad held down two jobs while earning a college degree. 

Mom was living in a strange city, in what is now the “slums” of Nashville, with no car, no family, and none of the modern conveniences young moms enjoy today. She was quite often alone without help for days with all three of us—remember three children under the age of 3! She was nursing, changing cloth diapers, having to wash those diapers and our clothing at a local laundromat, and she had to walk everywhere she went with us in tow. Not feeling her family was complete, she gave birth to my younger sister seven years later.

We left Nashville for a brief time in order for my dad to earn two graduate degrees from Kansas University. While in Lawrence, my mom became an undergraduate student earning her degree, as well as a Masters. Once they completed their work at the University, we returned to Nashville. My mom went on the earn her EdS (Educational Specialist degree) and her PhD, earning these while keeping a home, teaching school, and raising four children. 

My maternal grandmother lost her mom at a young age. Her dad, Grandpa Goodwin, was a little man in stature but big in his ability to be bold and gruff. I never witnessed a tender side to him. My grandmother married at 15, I believe to escape her home life. Due to the loss of her mother at an impressionable age and the disposition of her father, she did not know how to love. Therefore, the only example my mom had of unconditional love was her dad, my Grandpa Barton. I am so grateful for his love and care toward my mom Because he loved her, she knew how to love us.

I admire my mom for many reasons. She is a woman who rose above her circumstances, she was a hard worker, she wanted to be educated and help provide, she was a great hostess and opened her home to others, she cared about others, she always had friends, she took time to make special treats for us, like homemade tapioca and brownies from scratch. She is creative and insightful.

My Mom loves the Lord and talks to Him regularly. I found a multitude of journals among her things as I was cleaning out her house. She has always kept a great deal of her hurts and disappointments buried, I wish she felt freer to share them with me. Because she keeps those and other things about herself buried, we have not known just how deep her spiritual roots were until this spring. 

Each of my siblings take a turn during the week picking mom up and spending time with her. My older sister decided to take mom to the weekly Bible Study she attends. Recently, she was telling me how mom faithfully and accurately quotes scriptures, answers the study questions, and contributes to the discussion. She had no idea mom knew her Bible so well. Then she told me that on Easter Sunday my brother-in-law ask Mom to pray over their dinner. When she finished, everyone was wiping tears away from their eyes. 

My Mom will one day forget the hurts and disappointments buried deep inside her. But her love for God’s Word and the ability to commune with Him that is buried in her heart—it will live on in spite of the Dementia. Today, I honor my Mom and cherish the gift of being her daughter!