I Will Never Forget
A Modified Trimeric
The way the sunlight played across your face,
the words you always had to comfort me,
the silent presence, strength—sometimes severe,
the smile, the gratitude and grace.
Those words you always had to comfort me,
when darkness threatened to seep in, destroy—
I think of these and find the courage to go on.
Your silent presence, strength—sometimes severe,
your touch, just so, to heal or to correct.
This quiet, heavy–touch, beyond my reach.
Your smile, your gratitude and grace—
Do these endure in shadows of your mind?
Although you’re here, you are no longer you.
Yet, sunlight plays forever on your face.
Each day you tell me never to forget
that I will always be your little girl.
Today for dVerse Poetics, we are asked to remember someone we have lost. This is addressed to my dear 95-year-old mother who suffers from ever-increasing dementia. She has always been my best friend. Even though we have spent most of our lives at a geographical disadvantage, she was there for me. I still call her, every day or two or three. The conversation is the same. If I try to tell her something off-script, she cannot follow it, But one thing she says to me each and every time is this: “Never forget you are my little girl.”
Those of you who have dealt with dementia, as I have my entire life as a nurse, understand the we lose our loved one an inch at a time. And yet, the wonder is this–somewhere inside is that person who always was, imprisoned, so to speak and totally living in the present moment. It is our job to provide them with one pleasant moment at a time.
Please join us today at dVerse.
Reblogged this on Spiritual challenges and commented:
My recommendation for this weekend!
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Your poem is so beautiful and very touching. My darling mom suffered from dementia during the last two years of her life. “Somewhere inside is that person who always was, imprisoned, so to speak and totally living in the present moment.”……….no truer words were ever written.
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This is beautiful, V. Have you read it to your mom? I wonder if somewhere inside her, there is still a flicker of her old self–the woman who inspired your love of words and who would appreciate these very special ones? ❤
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I just wrote it and she can’t follow things on the phone. She does read, though. She will pick up any book, open it anywhere and lose herself in the present moment. Last year for her b-day I gave her the 2nd novel and she read 110 pages the first day! This year I gave her a scrap book of my poems and she seemed to have a difficult time concentrating…drifting off to sleep often. So it is. Maybe for Christmas…
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Yes, maybe for Christmas. ❤
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Simply beautiful! Peace to you and your mama. Linda
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Hi.. Victoria.. first of all
and yes.. last of fall..
your mother’s face
speaks one now of
beauty as Love
regardless of
standard
IQ ways
or numerical
ways of age..
left
in the
dementia of old
age that often comes
back like a child before
words to us.. and it still
brings me back to the
fact when i lost all
my emotions
including
the
memory of a smile..
that my friends with IQ’s
of 70 and below..
and my friends
i meet in a
Nursing Home
who have so much
more than me with
a smile as the bottom
line then is they
wanna live
as they
can at
least feel
it and there
is zero life for
me then.. so yeah..
blessings.. gifts.. and
perspectives in life.. of
which there is no
greater
than
feeling Love..
no matter all the
other costs of crosses
in Life
when Love is
here Life
is real..
and if your mom
feels.. she has everything
i didn’t have then… and until
one loses that.. i don’t think they
can truly say
they’ve
been
to hell..
yet.. as hell
is a place where
pain is a gift of heaven..
in retrospect of course then..
and i swear with all the Angels
and tears of God.. the look now
then in the photo on your mother’s
face is worth all the poeTry
that has ever been
written in the
word and
trust me
the devil
can tale
that for sure..
as i am him before
in metaphor and literhell…
with zero point smiles there….
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Very thoughtful reply, Fred.
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touching and heartfelt! lovely write. thank you for sharing! http://theworksofhope.blogspot.ca/
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It’s beautiful. I can see how much you love and miss her like she was before
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So sad, so poignant and yet ultimately life-reaffirming – such love and complicity there. Most moving.
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I cried at “although you are here you are no longer you.” That’s the way I lost my mother too, By inches. The gratitude and grace shine through in your poem.
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I did comment but it did not appear. Soulful and moving and your mother still hears you at a soul level.
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This is a lovely, soulful honouring. Your mother still hears you at a soul level ….but it must be hard.
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I always feel this way with my father…I’m still his little girl too! What a loving service…to give them one pleasant moment at a time. Thanks for this beautiful poem you share.
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This put a lump in my throat and a mist in my eyes, Victoria. What a sweet thing for your mother to say to you. I believe this is part of that hidden “self” just below the surface that she can still somehow reclaim and let her daughter know that you will always be her little girl. Thanks for sharing her photo…she’s lovely.
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On the more banal side of things, she must have told me a dozen times when I visited last week that she didn’t like my haircut. Our mothers want us to be perfect, don’t they?
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This is a very moving poem, Victoria. It reminds me of a friend of mine’s mother whose mother had dementia but she could still identify my friend, but not always her sister who found it very hard.
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Very moving and touching share Victoria ~ I am glad I was able to still chat with my mom over the phone just now and tell her how I appreciate her ~
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Aww, how sweet, love the form and refrain. “You will always be my little girl.” Just precious. She remembers you after all.
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The little girl is so moving. I think of my own girls now young women and the little girl in me. We just don’t know what it must feel like with dementia but seem to fear it happening to our loved ones or us.
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Deeply moving. Beautiful.
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This is so beautiful & poignant… it left me speechless.. especially the lines at the end:
Each day you tell me never to forget
that I will always be your little girl.
My heart goes out to you.
Lots of love,
Sanaa
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A beautiful tribute, Victoria.
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Moms are the hardest losses other than a child!
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This made me cry deeply. My mother lives in another state with her sister Alzheimers has kidnapped her. She doesn’t remember what she had for breakfast but she still remembers I am her best girl and that she is still my mama. So beautiful and such a lovely tribute. The picture is amazing and so lovely.
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It is a sort of kidnapping, isn’t it?
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Yes it is and the cruelty is, there is no ransom we can pay to rescue them.
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I absolutely agree that inside is the person who always was, imprisoned…….I so love that she tells you every day that you will always be her little girl. How very moving that is.
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A touching tribute to your mother. Even as we age, the little girl or boy is still there inside us.
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My mother-in-law just past at 90, mind still sharp, still living in her own home; having avoided cancer & dementia, her heart finally gave out. Dementia & cancer need to top the “let’s find a cure” list for sure; very sweet nostalgia within this piece, V.
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Oh this made me cry… yes my mother suffer the same, she seems to wander here own way, she seems to remember things, and invent others .. sometimes I do not know if she believes it itself.. Geographical disadvantage — it has been like that for 15 years now.. but my sister live close.. The trimeric form worked well and the closing line is perfect.
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An inch at a time, over 7 years, my father slipped away. And while he could still speak, he thanked me each time we spoke on the phone for the interview I did by mail with him before he began to lose his memories.
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Oh, Victoria, this is so beautiful! So touching that she tells you that you will always be her little girl. I know dementia is very hard, but it seems that her heart still shines through. Lovely photo too. Like mother, like daughter!
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So many parallels between our experience.
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Thank you for the thoughtful comment, Mary.
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