第5部分(第3/6 頁)

rightened。　She’d　say。　“What’s　happening　to　me？　Why　can’t　I　remember？”

Before　Alzheimer’s；　my　mother　never　admitted　fear　or　sadness　to　me。　Now；　she　became　strangely　free　with　her　emotions；　crying　when　frightened；　expressing　anger　when　furious；　and　laughing　when　exhilarated。　As　I　released　my　perceptions　of　who　my　mother　was　supposed　to　be；　we　both　became　calmer。

I　used　everything　I　could　to　stay　connected　to　her　as　she　lost　the　ability　to　engage　in　the　hallmarks　of　linear　life。　My　mother　had　always　loved　dancing。　When　I　came　home　from　work；　I’d　turn　on　Tina　Turner　or　Janet　Jackson；　and　we　would　dance　and　dance。 I’d　play　her　favorite　songs　on　the　piano；　and　she’d　place　her　hand　on　top　of　the　old　upright　and　sing　each　note　and　every　word　perfectly。

As　my　mother’s　illness　progressed；　I　saw　that　I　could　not　provide　the　care　she　needed；　so　I　decided　to　put　her　in　a　nursing　home。　Now　that　she’s　away；　I　dread　the　day　when　she　will　no　longer　know　me。　Sometimes　she　seems　lost　to　me。　But　then　something　happens；　such　as　my　wedding。　Even　though　she　expressed　no　interest；　I　needed　her　there。　On　my　wedding　day；　she　marched　in　with　my　father；　stepmother；aunts；　uncles；　and　cousins。　She　sat　behind　me；　occasionally　murmuring　in　time　to　the　minister’s　speech　as　he　poured　libations。　When　it　came　time　for　me　to　stand。　she　looked　at　me　and　sang　out　proudly；　“That’s　my　gal。”　I　turned　to　her。　“Yes；　Mom；　it’s　me。　”

When　I　visit　her　in　the　nursing　home；　we　don’t　carry　on　typical　conversations。　Rather；　I　talk　about　my　day　and　act　out　Anansi　tales。　Or　I　massage　her　arms；　shoulders；　and　hands。　She　grabs　my　arm　and　cradles　it；　talking　all　the　while　about　how　she　loves　babies。　And　when　I　feel　like　a　baby　myself；　wishing　I　could　just　tell　all　my　troubles　to　my　mother　and　kno