More Powerful than Words

Today's One Word Wednesday prompt is TOUCH.  A little bit weird for me to write about.  I am a personal space kind of gal.  I can hug with the best of them.  I pat shoulders and arms and will rub my kids' backs or run my fingers through their hair without even thinking about it.  I find comfort in touching the people that I love.

But my mom and I have never been that way.  As some of you know or have read - my mom really wasn't that into being a mom.  She loved my daddy (who wanted kids), she was born in 1927 (when all women were supposed to want a family more than anything) and she probably always felt a bit untraditional (as a woman who worked in a leadership role before that was an everyday thing) so she probably thought this might make her "fit in" more.

Not your best reasons for bringing a child into the world - but HEY!  I'm glad she caved to the pressures of the day.  I like being born.  I am so happy to be me.

All of this to illustrate that mom was never 100% comfortable in the role of mom.  We were fast friends.  I was an excellent employee.  Mom and I laughed a lot.  But we didn't touch much.

I remember vividly the times when she would brush my hair.  I would sit at her feet and she would brush my hair and put it in those foam rollers or braids and it was heavenly.  I guess because it happened only 4 or 5 times that I can remember.  I remember having the measles at Eastertime one year - and what I remember is mom putting a cold cloth on my forehead and stroking my hand, not being miserable.

I guess I craved her touch, but it wasn't how I was raised.  So, it's weird to me now.  And although I am comfortable dressing her, bathing her, doing her hair and even helping her in the bathroom - I am really uncomfortable with hugs and kisses....even though I know how important it is to her.  She is so alone in her Alzheimer's.  She has isolated herself her entire life to prove her independence and now she is alone.  Kind of stuck with me - who she raised - who doesn't know exactly how to morph into the person she needs.

I've started by holding her hand.  I think I can easily say I have mastered holding her hand.  It brings her so much happiness.  Not for the reasons you might think.  She likes it because she can show me off.  She can boast about how likable she is.  It's so bizarre.  But you know what - when you can't remember your own name or what day it is - what harm is there in making her happy?  She will look down at our hands and then smile at me and say "I'm so glad you like me, see how much this lady likes me?".  It's sad, but it's sweet too.

On the more difficult days - for me, for mom, for both of us - I will sit down by her feet and lay my head on her knee.  And she will stroke my hair.  It reminds me so much of those few times when she was putting in the braids or the pink foam rollers.  And I think it brings her comfort.  Lots of times, she will doze off or start to hum softly and whatever was making her nuts kind of melts away.

So, even though it is completely out of my comfort zone - as her caregiver and only child - I will do whatever it takes to keep her happy and less anxious.  I will hold her hand and rest my head in her lap.  I will kiss her forehead and convince the kids to give her hugs at bedtime.  I will rub her back and lay my hand on her knee while we are doing physical therapy.  Because the truth is - with Alzheimer's, TOUCH is far more powerful than words.