I suppose it applies to most people that a large portion of our life seems like an endless repetition of the same routine.
It’s been two weeks since I came back to my motherland. Every single day somewhat falls into a routine. Going out is now a chore since my mother can no longer walk more than a block or two. I don’t mind taking her out in a wheelchair. However it seems to me that sometimes she doesn’t even enjoy going out, which more or less dampens my spirit. Why do I even bother then?
My mother has never been someone who’s capable of expressing her emotions. With her Alzheimer’s, it has become even more difficult to understand her behavior. Her forgetfulness can really drive me crazy, and I have to keep reminding myself of her illness, that she can’t help it..
“Your mom appreciates everything you are doing for her even though she doesn’t say it.” my companion said to me the other day. I believe he is right. What he doesn’t know is that I feel guilty being here taking care of my mom while leaving him all by himself far, far away..
