My mom and I have a special relationship. Aside from a brief rebellious phase in my “tween” years and a regrettable portion of my early twenties, we have always been close. Mom has always been the first person I call to share good news, the one I turn to when I need a shoulder to cry on or some encouragement to keep me going. We can talk about anything — well, OK, anything except sex.
Mom is 84 now and her memory is failing. It’s been gradually declining for years, but things have come to a head in the last few months. Though we don’t have an official diagnosis yet, she is exhibiting some clear symptoms of dementia. During a recent hospital stay, she had periods of such mental confusion that she couldn’t answer simple questions like “What’s the date today?” or “Do you have any children?”
When I heard that she had answered no, she does not have any children, a little piece of my heart broke. I realized that this is the beginning of losing my mom, my lifelong friend. She’s going to slip away from me bit by bit, and there may come a day when she doesn’t even know me. She’s already forgotten much of our shared history.
I want to capture my mom’s stories and my memories of the person she’s always been before old age, dementia and eventually death steal that person from me. I want to chronicle this journey we’re beginning, side by side, into the final stage of her life. I want to hold onto every precious little moment we have together and preserve them to remember always.
Hence, The Little Moments.