Grief, in two parts.

I find myself referring to my mother in the past tense.  My thoughts start out with "she was", or "she used to".  There are few descriptions that encompass her now.  She used to love mince pie, a good joke and letting a wave carry her into shore.  All that she was or did is now gone and the woman left behind is simple in her needs and carries few expectations.  She likes to hold my hand  and sometimes if the mood hits, she raises it softly to her lips and kisses my palm.  I grieve the mother I lost, but am unashamedly full of love for the one I have now.  We have very few shared memories between us.  There is no indication of recognition from one visit to the next.  Sometimes when I tell her I love her, she gives me a funny lopsided grin and I know she's thinking, "who is this woman who says she loves me?".  Always polite, ....she thanks me warmly and looks away.

My mother will soon turn 90...she likes ice cream, naps and a stuffed blue bear I got her for Christmas.  These things I know for sure.  I do not know the content of her dreams or if she ever remembers me.  She is affectionate and still capable of great love.  This I know to be true.  She used to sing in the car, but now she just makes noise.