There is a line we are walking on this dementia journey. On one side of the line is our desire to be with mom and her adorable laughter. To sit and to be together. To support her as she has always supported us. The other side is the desire to see her free from her limited body and mind. I wish for her to stay and I wish for her to go. Holding space for these two opposite desires is difficult for me. It is cognitive dissonance. I really really want her to stay. But I also really really want her to be free.

This dichotomy creates a tension that is hard to live with day in and day out. The anxiety is high. The emotion feels like being torn in half. I believe it is possible for these opposites to co-exist, but it is not easy. I know there is coming a time, where the desire for her to be free will allow me to let go of the desire for her to be here. But I do not know when that time will arrive. Are we close now? Could it be another year, or so? There is no knowing. That is the tension of this journey and it is where I live. Between a rock and a hard place. No relief from it.

Learning to hold the tension is the hardest part of this path. Knowing the end and not knowing the end. Seeing Mom in there and not seeing her in there. Watching her try and watching her not try. I am living the in-between. One moment at a time. Not looking too far ahead. Not looking back. Being here. Now. That is all I have. And I am so grateful for it. So many of my friends would give anything for another smile or laugh from their moms. I do not take it for granted that I get to experience these moments, hard though they are.

It’s like a see saw. Remember when you were up and then you went down? Always with the fear that your partner would jump off at any moment and you would crash down too fast and too hard. Is this broken leg of Mom’s the beginning of my going down too fast? Am I about to crash when she gets off this teetertotter? Or will she go up again and smile and laugh the whole time? Playing with me like children do?  

There is always a knot in the pit of my stomach. This might be it. This might be the time. I feel my heart brace itself for what we all know is coming. I have done it several times over the past few years. At this point, I live with my heart braced. Never knowing…always knowing. The end. It will come. My heart will break no matter how much bracing I do. Until then, living in the tension is all I have. A daily dose of uncertainty. A laugh. Some tears. All in the same space.

Mom is dying. No question there. But how long until her last breath? No one knows. But then, aren’t we all? Moving towards the end? None of us knows, not really. Mom’s state is a picture of the reality. After she breathes her last, there will be a new kind of grief. The kind so many already walk with. A fresh wound, with its own heartache. Until then, we have walked her to the gate and now wait with her here until it is time for her to cross the threshold. I choose to open my hands and let God take it from here.