Alzheimerglowers

 

"Kreative

Korner"

 

 

 

 

It is sometimes easier to share how we feel through our own creativity; poems, prose, painting etc.,

This page is for you to express yourself. Please send any contributions (subject: Kreative Korner) to Jennifer and Cin at alzheimerglowers@lycos.com for potential posting on this page.

(All pieces must be original/of your own making and you must own the copyright.)

 

 

 

Hello, I am Jennifer.

 

My mum (born 1927) has always been my heroine and my life has been made easier by example.

Five decades ago my mother was married to my father and then my two older brothers were born. My parents were poor and with four living in a boat pulled by an old car, another mouth to feed was not planned for.

My mother prayed that the "hot mustard seed bath" that my father told her to sit in would prove to be just an old wives’ tale. And it was, for I was born to the delight of both my parents in 1953 and I was nicknamed, "Little Miss Mustard Seed."

Our family survived our father’s reign over us and as the years have gone on, we have had an unshakable bond. In 1977 the bond became three, with the arrival of my own daughter.

I, like my mother, have always enjoyed writing. At the age of 60, my mother wrote, edited, self-published and had printed three books.

The Alzheimer's disease is slow and insidious and as time goes by and I am there to care for my mother's needs, I am constantly reminded of the importance of the quality of life rather than the quantity. I look to my mother and realize that it is not so much what we do in life but how we handle it. This is what gives us our dignity and self worth.

I wrote the poem below and gave it to my mother for Mother's Day in 2002 and she displayed it on her piano for years and now on her dresser in her room in her “Hugs not Drugs” long term care facility. When other’s read this poem; my mother’s value and lifelong contributions rise up from being a mere little old lady in a wheel chair of few wee whispering words, to shouts of survival and sacrifices. Others hear her shouting in their head:

“I am a person who loves, lives, needs, contributes, teaches, has talents and 'really does think and feel' even buried beneath the confines of my illness.”

As a reminder that above all else, love is a necessity for our abilities to cope with the dark side of life, my mother, daughter and I all own the same necklaces with a little ball at the end that contains our own lone mustard seed. This is always a wonderful reminder that regardless of how our lives are affected, we are never alone as we wade through the darkness, we can bloom and rise up to touch the sun. The seed reminds us that we always have arms to hug us and a voice to tell us that we are never alone. This is especially true with Alzheimer's because as my mother's world becomes more and more fragmented, more dark, and as it closes in and becomes smaller and smaller, the innate connection that I share with my mum is magnified and in this awareness and there are moments of lucidity or familiarity that we all enjoy.

I once heard it said that how we die is often characterized by how we lived. Death is part of living. When I leave, I hope the journey is fought with all those things that we tried to offer others in our life and that we will laugh in the face of Alzheimer's for when all is said and done we can say we won the war if we can shout to the world: "Oh yes, you were always there in my mind, but my heart and soul got to do things my way."

Let us nurture the seed of love and make the most of our journeys...

Jennifer

 

 

Life's Bouquet

 

Mother, the fragrance of your legacy flourishes within my heart.

I stand in awe of your collage of flora.

Your garden of life's lessons has blessed me with carnations of sincerity;

purity in your wisps of baby's breath;

the softness of your pansies; love in your array of roses; your sweetness of mint;

and your strength of the mum.

Your beauty abounds!

 

As a little girl I was merely a tiny mustard seed; the smallest seed in the garden.

I stood beside you in the rose bushes of the park,

comparing my sunflower dress to yours.

Do you remember my tiny hand clutched by yours?

You were the prettiest flower of all.

I stared up at your smiling eyes and felt so proud!

 

Now you are seventy-five, I must remember for you,

as your hand is now held tight in mine. Over time,

I have blossomed into the largest herb in the garden

 but my person ever diminished by your presence;

over-shadowed by your accomplishments.

 

Thank you Mum, for sowing, nourishing, sheltering,

and cultivating me from bud to blossom.

Thank you for enriching my soil and giving me my roots.

Thank you for wading with me through the weeds of adversity and dandelions of despair.

You have gifted me a rainbow I carry inside myself…'life's bouquet'

 

My legacy to you is a field of sweet grass

Laden with Forget-me-knots, where

Streams sparkle, butterflies dance,

Sunshine kisses your cheeks

and the warm winds

Embrace you forever…

 

I love you!
Your little Miss Mustard Seed

 

© Jennifer Sierra 2002