The shrill ring of the telephone pierced the pre-dawn silence. Jessica’s hand shot out from under the covers, fumbling for the receiver.
“Hello?” Her voice croaked, thick with interrupted sleep.
“Ms. Moore? This is Officer Ramirez from the San Francisco Police Department. We have your mother here at the station. She was found wandering the streets in her nightgown again.”
Jessica bolt upright, her heart pounding. “I’ll be right there.”
She threw on clothes, her fingers trembling as she buttoned her blouse. The drive to the police station passed in a blur of streetlights and screeching tires.
Inside, fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. The acrid smell of stale coffee and disinfectant assaulted her nostrils.
“Where is she?” Jessica asked the officer at the front desk whose face she had come to know so well.
“We put her in an interrogation room, so she wouldn’t wander off.”
Jessica followed him into the room. Her mother sat hunched in a plastic chair, silver hair disheveled, thin frame drowning in a borrowed police jacket. Her feet were bare and dirty, toenails overgrown and yellowed.
“Mom?” Jessica approached cautiously.
Eleanor looked up, blue eyes flashing with a mix of relief and irritation. “Jessica! Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for hours!”
Jessica swallowed hard. “Mom, I came as soon as they called. Do you remember what happened?”
Eleanor’s face crumpled, tears welling in her eyes. “I… I don’t know. I was looking for… something. I can’t remember what.” Her voice hardened. “Why weren’t you there? You’re always watching me like a hawk, but the one time I needed you…”
Jessica flinched at the accusation. “I’m sorry, Mom. Let’s get you home, okay?”
“Thanks again, Officer Ramirez,” she called as they slowly moved out the door. He gave her a warm nod in return.
As they left the station, Eleanor leaned heavily on Jessica’s arm. “I’m sorry, Jessie,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just so tired.”
Jessica squeezed her mother’s hand, her throat too tight to speak.
Three days later, Jessica stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. The phone rang again.
“Ms. Moore? This is Angela from Safeway. Your mother is here. She’s quite upset and insisting she needs to buy groceries, but she doesn’t have any money with her.”
Jessica’s spoon clattered against the pot. How did she get out again without her knowing? “I’ll be right there.”
She turned off the stove and grabbed her keys, racing out the door.
At the supermarket, she found her mother in the produce section, clutching a head of lettuce to her chest. Eleanor’s hair was uncombed, and she wore mismatched shoes – one slipper and one running shoe.
“Mom,” Jessica said gently, approaching her. “What are you doing here?”
Eleanor’s eyes darted around, her grip on the lettuce tightening. “I need to make dinner for your father. He’ll be home soon, and there’s nothing in the house.”
Jessica’s throat tightened. “Dad’s been gone for twenty years, Mom. Remember? It’s just you and me now.”
Eleanor’s face contorted with anger. “Don’t lie to me! I just saw him this morning. He kissed me goodbye before work.” She pulled the lettuce more tightly into her thin arms. “If you won’t help me, I’ll do it myself!”
Tears welled in Jessica’s eyes as she gently pried the lettuce from her mother’s hands. “Let’s go home, Mom. I’ve got soup on the stove.”
Eleanor’s anger deflated as quickly as it had flared. “Soup?” she asked, suddenly looking lost. “Oh, Jessie, when did you get here? I’m so glad to see you.”
Jessica blinked back tears as she led her mother out of the store. “I’m glad to see you too, Mom.”
A week passed. Jessica sat at her desk, trying to focus on the graphic design project on her computer screen. Her cell phone buzzed.
“Jessica? It’s Mrs. Prince from next door. Your mother is in my backyard, digging up my rosebushes. She says she’s planting a vegetable garden.”
Jessica’s head dropped into her hands. “I’ll be right there.”
She found her mother on her knees in Mrs. Prince’s garden, hands caked with dirt, surrounded by uprooted rosebushes. Eleanor looked up at Jessica, beaming.
“Look, sweetie! I’m planting tomatoes. They were your grandfather’s favorite.”
Jessica knelt beside her mother, ignoring the dampness seeping through her work slacks. “Mom, these are Mrs. Prince’s roses. We can’t plant tomatoes here.”
Eleanor’s smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion, then anger. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is our garden. Your father just built that fence last summer.” She grabbed a fistful of dirt, flinging it aside. “I’m not stupid, Jessica. I know where I am!”
Jessica gently helped her mother to her feet, brushing dirt from her knees. “Let’s go inside, Mom. We can talk about planting a garden at our house, okay?”
As they walked back home, Eleanor’s anger gave way to tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. Maybe I am going crazy.”
Jessica squeezed her mother’s hand, her own tears falling freely now. “You’re not crazy, Mom. We’ll figure this out together.”
That night, Jessica sat on the edge of her bed, head in her hands. The events of the past week replayed in her mind on an endless loop. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.
A soft knock at the door made her head snap up. She quickly wiped her eyes.
“Come in,” she called, her voice wavering.
The door creaked open, and Eleanor peeked in. For a moment, her eyes were clear and focused.
“Jessica? Are you all right, sweetheart?”
Jessica forced a smile. “I’m fine, Mom. Just tired.”
Eleanor shuffled into the room, perching carefully on the bed beside her daughter. She reached out, her papery hand cool against Jessica’s cheek.
“You’re not fine,” Eleanor said softly. “I may be losing my mind, but I still know my little girl.” Her voice hardened. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? I’m ruining your life.”
A sob escaped Jessica’s throat. “No, Mom, you’re not—”
“Don’t lie to me!” Eleanor snapped, then immediately deflated. “Oh, Jessie, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. One minute I’m fine, the next…” She trailed off, looking lost.
Jessica leaned into her mother’s touch, tears flowing freely now. “We’re going to get through this, Mom. I promise.”
Eleanor stroked Jessica’s hair, humming a lullaby from childhood. For a precious few minutes, their roles reversed. The mother comforted the daughter, a glimpse of the woman Eleanor used to be shining through the fog of her failing mind.
As Jessica’s sobs subsided, Eleanor’s hand stilled. When Jessica looked up, her mother’s eyes were once again cloudy with confusion.
“Oh,” Eleanor said, blinking rapidly. “I’m sorry, dear. I forgot why I came in here.”
Jessica took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “It’s okay, Mom. Let’s get you back to bed.”
As she tucked her mother in, Jessica’s mind raced. Something had to change. But what? And how much longer could she keep this up?
The questions echoed in her mind as she closed her mother’s door and retreated to her own room, another sleepless night stretching before her.
The autumn leaves crunched under Jessica’s feet as she and Eleanor walked arm-in-arm through the park. A crisp breeze carried the scent of woodsmoke and apples, and the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the path.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Mom?” Jessica said, gesturing to the vibrant reds and golds of the trees.
Eleanor nodded, her eyes bright. “Oh yes, just like when your father and I used to take you here as a little girl. Do you remember?”
Jessica’s step faltered for a moment. It had been weeks since her mother had mentioned her father without confusion. “I do remember, Mom. We used to have picnics right over there by the pond.”
They continued their walk, Eleanor pointing out various landmarks and recounting memories with surprising clarity. Jessica felt a bubble of hope expanding in her chest. Maybe the new medication was working. Maybe things were finally turning around.
As they rounded a bend in the path, Eleanor suddenly stopped short. Her grip on Jessica’s arm tightened painfully.
“Mom? What’s wrong?”
Eleanor’s eyes were wide, darting back and forth. “Where… where are we? This isn’t our neighborhood. How did we get here?”
Jessica’s heart sank. “We’re in the park, Mom. Remember? We came for a walk.”
Eleanor yanked her arm away from Jessica, her face contorting with anger and fear. “Don’t lie to me! You’ve brought me somewhere strange. Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“No, Mom, of course not,” Jessica pleaded, reaching for her mother’s hand. “We’ve been walking here for the past hour. Look, there’s the pond we were just talking about.”
But Eleanor was shaking her head, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow. “I want to go home. Take me home now!”
“Okay, Mom, okay,” Jessica said soothingly, though her own pulse was racing. “We’ll go home right now.”
The walk back was tense, Eleanor alternating between angry accusations and fearful whimpers. By the time they reached their front door, Jessica’s nerves were frayed, the hopeful mood of earlier completely evaporated.
Inside, Eleanor sank onto the couch, her face pale. “I’m sorry, Jessie,” she whispered. “I don’t know what came over me. I ruined our nice walk, didn’t I?”
Jessica knelt beside her, taking her mother’s trembling hands in her own. “It’s okay, Mom. You’re safe now. We’re home.”
As she helped her mother to bed, Jessica’s mind raced. One step forward, two steps back. How long could they go on like this?
The next morning, Jessica logged onto her session with Alex, dark circles under her eyes testifying to another sleepless night.
“Good morning, Jessica,” Alex said, his brow furrowing as he took in her appearance. “How are you feeling today?”
Jessica rubbed her eyes. “Honestly? I’m exhausted. Discouraged. I thought things were getting better, but now…” She recounted the incident in the park, her voice catching as she described her mother’s fear and confusion.
Alex listened attentively, nodding. When she finished, he asked, “On a scale of 1 to 10, where would you put your emotional level right now?”
Jessica sighed. “Maybe a 3? Yesterday was rough, and I’m dreading what today might bring.”
“That’s understandable,” Alex said warmly. “You’re dealing with a very challenging situation. Now, let’s try something new today. I want you to imagine you’re talking to your best friend, and they’ve just told you the story you just shared with me. What would you say to them?”
Jessica closed her eyes, picturing her old college roommate, Sarah. “I’d tell her… that she’s doing an amazing job. That it’s okay to feel discouraged sometimes, but not to lose hope. That every good moment with her mom is precious, even if it’s followed by a bad one.”
“Excellent,” Alex said. “Now, can you try saying those things to yourself?”
Jessica opened her eyes, meeting Alex’s gaze through the screen. “I’m doing an amazing job,” she said softly, her voice gaining strength as she continued. “It’s okay to feel discouraged sometimes, but I won’t lose hope. Every good moment with Mom is precious, even if it’s followed by a bad one.”
A weight seemed to lift from her shoulders as she spoke the words. They sat in silence for a moment, letting the affirmations sink in.
“How do you feel now?” Alex asked gently.
Jessica took a deep breath. “A little better. Maybe a 4? I still feel overwhelmed, but… ”
As she closed her laptop, Jessica heard her mother stirring upstairs. She took another deep breath, visualizing her peaceful beach for a moment. Then, squaring her shoulders, she headed upstairs to start another day.
Later that week, Jessica sat at her desk, focused intently on her computer screen. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t hear the soft footsteps approaching.
“Jessie?” Eleanor’s voice made her jump. “What are you working on, dear?”
Jessica turned, surprised to see her mother standing in the doorway, looking lucid and interested. “Oh, hi Mom. Just a design project for work. Want to see?”
Eleanor nodded, moving to stand behind Jessica’s chair. Jessica explained the project, pointing out different elements on the screen. To her amazement, Eleanor asked relevant questions and even made a suggestion about the color scheme.
As they talked, Jessica felt a warmth spreading through her chest. This was her mom – the sharp, creative woman she remembered from childhood, not the confused, fearful person she’d become accustomed to caring for.
The moment was interrupted by a ping from Jessica’s computer – an email notification. Jessica clicked it open, then gasped.
“What is it, dear?” Eleanor asked, concerned.
Jessica’s eyes were wide as she re-read the email. “It’s… it’s from the Art Director at Moda Magazine. They want to feature my designs in their next issue!”
Eleanor clapped her hands together. “Oh, Jessie, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you!” Then, her face suddenly darkened. “But… you’ll be too busy for me now, won’t you? You’ll want to put me in a home so you can focus on your career.”
Jessica’s heart sank at the abrupt mood shift. “No, Mom, of course not. This doesn’t change anything between us.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears. “Don’t lie to me. I’m just a burden to you. Maybe… maybe it would be better if I wasn’t here at all.”
“Mom, please don’t say that,” Jessica pleaded, standing to embrace her mother. “You’re not a burden. I love you.”
Eleanor stiffened in Jessica’s arms, then slowly relaxed, returning the hug. “I’m sorry, Jessie. I don’t know why I said that. I love you too, sweetheart. And I really am proud of you.”
Later, as she helped Eleanor into bed, her mother grabbed her hand. “Jessie,” she said, her voice suddenly small and uncertain. “I… I know I’m not always myself these days. But I want you to know… I see how hard you’re trying. Thank you for not giving up on me.”
Jessica’s throat tightened. She leaned down, pressing a kiss to her mother’s forehead. “I’ll never give up on you, Mom. Never.”
That night, as Jessica lay in bed, the events of the day replayed in her mind. The lows were still low, but the highs… the highs were starting to outweigh them. For the first time in months, she fell asleep with a glimmer of hope, the question that had haunted her for so long – how much longer can I keep this up? – replaced by a new one: How can I make the most of our good moments?
The waiting room of Dr. Patel’s office hummed with quiet conversation and the rustle of magazine pages. Jessica sat rigid in an uncomfortable chair, her leg bouncing nervously. Beside her, Eleanor hummed softly, leafing through a gardening catalogue.
“Moore? Eleanor Moore?” A nurse called from the doorway.
Jessica stood, helping her mother to her feet. “That’s us, Mom. Ready?”
Eleanor nodded, her face a mix of confusion and determination.
In Dr. Patel’s office, the neurologist’s face was grave as he reviewed Eleanor’s latest test results. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed unnaturally loud in the sterile silence of the room.
“Ms. Moore,” Dr. Patel began, his dark eyes filled with compassion. “I’m afraid I have some difficult news. Your mother’s condition has progressed more rapidly than we anticipated. The new medication doesn’t seem to be slowing the cognitive decline as we’d hoped.”
Jessica’s throat tightened. She gripped the arms of her chair, her knuckles turning white. “What… what does that mean, exactly?”
Dr. Patel leaned forward. “It means we need to start considering more intensive care options. Your mother’s safety is becoming a serious concern, especially given the incidents with wandering. Have you thought about memory care facilities?”
The words hit Jessica like a physical blow. She’d known this day might come, but she’d desperately hoped it was further down the road. “I… I can’t put her in a home. She made me promise…”
Her voice trailed off as she glanced at Eleanor, who was staring out the window, seemingly oblivious to the conversation about her future. Suddenly, Eleanor’s head snapped around, her eyes blazing.
“Who are you talking about? Me?” she demanded. “I’m right here! Don’t you dare try to send me away, Jessica. I won’t go!”
Dr. Patel’s expression remained calm. “Mrs. Moore, we’re just discussing options for your care. Nothing has been decided.”
Eleanor’s anger deflated as quickly as it had flared. She looked at Jessica, confusion and fear replacing the fury in her eyes. “Jessie? What’s happening? Why are we here?”
Jessica reached out, taking her mother’s trembling hand. “It’s okay, Mom. We’re just talking to the doctor about how to help you feel better.”
Dr. Patel nodded sympathetically. “I understand this is a difficult decision. But you need to consider what’s best for both your mother and yourself. Caregiver burnout is a very real concern, Jessica.”
As they left the office, Jessica’s mind whirled. The weight of the decision pressed down on her, threatening to crush her beneath its immensity. How could she possibly make this choice?
That evening, Jessica sat on her bed, the pamphlets Dr. Patel had given her spread out before her. Glossy photos of smiling seniors and caring staff blurred as tears filled her eyes.
A soft knock at the door made her hastily wipe her face. “Come in,” she called, her voice slightly hoarse.
Eleanor peeked in, her face creased with concern. “Jessie? Are you all right, sweetheart?”
For a moment, Jessica considered hiding the pamphlets, protecting her mother from the difficult truth. But as Eleanor settled beside her on the bed, Jessica made a decision.
“Mom,” she said softly, “we need to talk about something important.”
Eleanor’s eyes flickered to the pamphlets, then back to Jessica’s face. “Oh,” she said quietly. “I see.”
Jessica took a deep breath. “Dr. Patel thinks… he thinks it might be time to consider a memory care facility. Somewhere that can provide 24-hour care and keep you safe.”
Eleanor was silent for a long moment, her fingers tracing the outline of a smiling woman on one of the brochures. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I made you promise, didn’t I? Never to put me in a home.”
Jessica nodded, tears spilling over. “You did, Mom. And I want to keep that promise. But I’m scared. What if something happens to you when I’m not here? What if I can’t provide the care you need?”
Eleanor’s face hardened, her eyes flashing with anger. “So you’re giving up on me? Shipping me off to some strangers because I’m too much trouble?”
“No, Mom, that’s not it at all,” Jessica pleaded. “I’m just trying to do what’s best for you.”
“What’s best for me is to stay in my own home!” Eleanor snapped. She stood up abruptly, scattering the pamphlets across the floor. “I won’t go, Jessica. You can’t make me!”
As quickly as it had come, the anger drained from Eleanor’s face. She looked down at the scattered brochures, then back at Jessica, her expression crumpling. “Oh, Jessie. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I shouted. I’m just… I’m scared.”
Jessica stood, wrapping her arms around her mother. “I know, Mom. I’m scared too.”
Eleanor clung to Jessica, her body shaking with quiet sobs. “I don’t want to forget you, Jessie. I don’t want to forget myself.”
Jessica stroked her mother’s hair, her own tears falling freely. “I know, Mom. We’ll figure this out together, okay? Whatever happens, I’ll be right here with you. I promise.”
Jessica jolted awake to the sound of music drifting up from downstairs. She glanced at the clock: 3:17 AM. Her heart raced as she threw off the covers and rushed down the stairs, fearing what she might find.
She froze in the living room doorway. Eleanor sat at the old upright piano, her fingers dancing over the keys, playing a melody Jessica hadn’t heard in years. It was the lullaby her mother used to play when Jessica was a child, every note perfect.
“Mom?” Jessica whispered, hardly daring to breathe.
Eleanor turned, a soft smile on her face. “Oh, Jessie. Did I wake you? I’m sorry, dear. I just had this tune in my head and I had to play it.”
Jessica moved closer, sinking onto the piano bench beside her mother. “I haven’t heard you play in so long. I didn’t even know you remembered how.”
Eleanor’s hands stilled on the keys. “It’s strange. Most days, I can barely remember what I had for breakfast. But this… this feels like it’s part of me. Like my hands remember even when my mind doesn’t.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the last notes of the lullaby hanging in the air. Then Eleanor’s fingers began to move again, playing a different song. Jessica recognized it immediately – it was the song her father used to sing to them both.
As the melody filled the room, Eleanor began to hum, then to sing softly. Her voice, though thin with age, carried the tune perfectly. Jessica joined in, her voice blending with her mother’s just as it had when she was a girl.
For those few precious minutes, it was as if time had rolled back. The confusion, the arguments, the fear of the future – all of it faded away, leaving only the music and the bond between mother and daughter.
As the song ended, Eleanor turned to Jessica, her eyes clear and bright. “We’ve always had music, haven’t we, Jessie? Even when things were hard.”
Jessica nodded, tears pricking at her eyes. “We have, Mom. We always will.”
Eleanor patted Jessica’s hand. “Whatever happens, dear, don’t let go of the music. It’s always there, even when you think you’ve forgotten.”
As they made their way back upstairs, Jessica supporting her mother’s elbow, a new thought formed in her mind. Maybe the way forward wasn’t about holding onto who her mother used to be, or fearing who she might become. Maybe it was about finding those threads – like music – that would always connect them, no matter what.
For the first time in months, as Jessica drifted back to sleep, it wasn’t questions that filled her mind, but the gentle notes of her mother’s lullaby.
You don’t have to feel overwhelmed. A Certified Positivity Partner can help you rebalance. Learn more: https://www.yourdailydoseofhappy.com/overwhelm/
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