Loss of memory for the elderly is not sudden but gradually, little by little. Initially, mother forgets where to put glasses, forgets if she has eaten rice yet. Then one day mother asks: "What grade are you in?" while you have been working for many years. You smile, answer gently. But when you turn away, your eyes are slightly stinging.
People call it Alzheimer's disease. For you, it's a journey back in time. You see your mother as if returning to childhood every day. Mother needs to remind her to take medicine, needs someone to take her, needs someone to patiently listen to a story that repeats endlessly.
One day you got angry. Mom asked the same question for the tenth time. You grumbled. Mom was silent, looking out the window, her eyes were both bewildered and distraught as if she had just lost something important. That night, you sat alone for a long time. You knew mom was not intentional and also knew you were witnessing the twilight of mom's life.
Taking care of elderly parents not only has beautiful moments but also requires patience when facing heavy moments at home, in the hospital, nights of restless sleep, waking up startled in the middle of the night... Sometimes, you wish to go somewhere for a few days. Then you are afraid. Afraid that one day you will return and your mother will no longer recognize you. Or no longer.
The truth is that there will be times when you no longer have the opportunity to take care of your parents. Time does not wait for anyone to be ready. One day, the familiar chair in the living room is empty. At that time, you don't remember the times you were disturbed. You remember your trembling hands folding your shirt, remember the mixed but loving calling.
Mom doesn't want that. No one wants to forget their child, no one wants to become a burden. Once Mom said very softly: "If only I had left early so you wouldn't be bothered". That's not giving up, but the heartache of seeing you tired even if you try to hide it.
The hardest thing is probably not caring, but accepting. Accepting yourself will be weak at times. Accepting mother is going through a steep slope that cannot turn back.
But amidst that fatigue, there are still very small moments: Once mother called your name correctly, a tight handshake, a keen look in your eyes full of love. Those things remind you that memories can fall, but love does not disappear completely.
Then one day, when the house is empty, you understand that taking care of someone in their later years, even if it is heavy and tearful, is still a privilege. Because not everyone has the opportunity to do it again. My younger brother said that the last two years of taking care of his mother were the most peaceful moments that he could never have again.
