even though my mom spent my entire childhood in a care center slowly deteriorating from terminal neurodegenerative disease, here are some happy memories i have of her when i would get to ditch church and visit on Sunday’s:

she would share her orange juice with me

i wasn’t supposed to eat her food at the center but when no one was looking, she would pass me her plastic cup filled with pulp and floaties and smile so so big, like she knew we were being naughty

she would let me snuggle her

there weren’t very many moments where she was lucid enough to show affection, but when she would have a moment of clarity, she’d curl up on her uncomfortable bed and pat next to her until i joined

she would tell me about her day

truth be told, she lost her ability to talk coherently pretty early on; but sometimes she got so excited to see me that she’d grab my hand and show me things and laugh and carry on in the most insistent happy gibberish as if i could understand her

she knew i loved animals

the center had all these bright little birds in cages in one of the rooms and she knew i loved them. she even got me a sketchbook filled with colorful marbled paper and told me to draw the birds. and so i did. every last page was one of those birds.

she let me hold her sweaters

winter was her favorite because she got to break out all her bright warm sweaters. the only other person i remember being allowed to touch her sweaters was her mom. we got her a Valentine’s sweater for xmas and she wore it the day before she died.

she let me sit on her lap when she was in her wheelchair

i don’t know if she knew i was her daughter by the time she was sick enough to be in a chair, but she knew i was someone she cared about. she was particular about personal space but insisted i “ride” with her in the halls.

she loved being outside

sometimes, if she was being good, we got to take her outside and sit on a bench next to her wheelchair. she loved the sun. sometimes she would hum. i remember one time she tried to pick a flower but her shaking hands picked at least ten. i laughed.

she loved music

if she was scared or confused or lost or frustrated with her inability to communicate she would yell and cry and scream. but if you sang she would quiet. i liked church at the center because it was all hymns. she would just listen and smile and be calm.

It was different being little and having a secret sick mom who couldn’t talk or walk or take care of herself. But I loved her so so so much. If she had gotten the chance, she would have taken such good care of me and loved me as much as I loved her.

Be grateful for your health.