“Lydia?” she asked as I stroked the brush down the length of her hair.
“Yes, Mom?”
“Who were those nice young girls?”
I smiled, but it was a smile of sadness and resignation. “Those are Margaret’s daughters, Julia and Hailey.”
My mother sighed. “Oh, of course. What’s the matter with me that I can’t remember my own granddaughters?”
“Mom, don’t worry. Julia and Hailey know who you are and that’s what’s important.” The diagnosis was official now. Mom had Alzheimer’s. As the disease progressed, I knew there’d come a time when Mom no longer recognized me. I’d deal with it; I would have no choice. I’d remember her as the young wife in photographs from the ’60s and ’70s, as the mother who’d walked me to school and sewed my Halloween costumes, as the grief-stricken widow and the old woman she was now. And all the moments in between. My mother.
“Is Margaret coming?” Mom asked in a tentative voice.
“Soon.” My sister would come by sometime on Monday. We alternated visits, which helped. I was grateful for Margaret and the way taking care of Mom had strengthened the bond we shared as sisters.
“She’s going to be a star,” Mom told me.
I knew my mother was thinking about Margaret’s high-school days and her athletic success. I was the brains of the family, supposedly. I did take pride in the fact that I’d graduated with my high-school class despite missing almost my entire junior year while battling cancer.
After I finished brushing Mom’s hair, it was time for dinner. Each of the residents was brought down to the dining room by a staff member. I waited until Mom was gone, then locked her room and left.
Brad, Cody and Chase were waiting for me at Green Lake. The three-mile walk around the lake was a favorite exercise of mine. Brad and Cody loved it, too, and Chase was quivering with excitement as he and Cody set off on their run.
“How’s your mom doing?” Brad asked.
I thought about the question she’d asked me—who Julia and Hailey were—and shrugged. “She’s in good spirits.”
“I’m glad.”
Brad knew I’d agonized over the decision to move Mom yet again, and so soon after her last move. Until Margaret told me, I hadn’t been aware how long she’d been suffering from memory loss. But Dad had known and he’d been covering for her and I’d never suspected.
Brad and I started down the path, hands linked. He talked about one thing and another, and I responded at the appropriate times, but my mind was in a dozen different places.