I’m slowly, slowly losing you.
I don’t know precisely when pieces of you started leaving,
The differences just added up more noticeably one day.
Since then, I’ve set my mind on enjoying you.
Whatever you is the one in front of me at the time,
That’s the one I love and try to laugh with.
It doesn’t make sense to fault you for not being who you were.
For not remembering our shared life and stories,
Or how to do the special things you used to do for our family.
I blamelessly love you today.
You can ask the same question again and again if you need to,
I’ll eventually get annoyed; but you can still ask.
It’s not the end of the world if your shirt is on backwards,
But it’s sad to see your independence slip.
I’ll put the tag in back, but I grieve that you can’t.
In the space between my visits,
I lose you a little more.
I have to get reacquainted with what you remember now.
I feel certain there will be a day when you don’t know me anymore.
I keep thinking, “Thank you, God, that she still knows me.”
I keep my thoughts present, with who you are in front of me.
It’s like a part of me thinks that when you stop remembering me,
I’ll somehow stop being your daughter, and you my mother.
As if the declining part of your brain could sever who we are.
You and I are forever sewn together by divine thread,
God knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I’ve even heard some of my cells may remain in your brain.
Did you know I’m letting go of Grandma’s rocking chair?
I feel scared that it makes me lose her too,
Though she’s been gone from earth for years.
But she’s the thread before you,
And you tied me into her.
Now I’ll tie you both to my daughter.
There are generations linked before and beyond,
Through God’s design and intention.
Not through a brain’s ability to remember.
So when I feel like you’re slipping away,
When I start to fear what’s ahead,
I’ll remember this divine thread.
I’ll hold on to our unbreakable bond.
