My Wish for my Mom on Mother’s Day: A Cure for Alzheimer’s Disease

My Wish for my Mom on Mother’s Day: A Cure for Alzheimer’s Disease May 8, 2015

I won’t be able to be with my mom this Mother’s Day, but I will be soon after. When I see her in a few weeks, it very well might be the first time that she doesn’t recognize who I am. This might be the first time that she not only doesn’t know I’m her son, but that she doesn’t even recognize my face. 

Millions of people have experienced the disappearance of a loved one’s memory, their identity, their familiarity. The sadness is deep.

Days like Mother’s Day (and Father’s Day) are supposed to be times of remembrance, of reflection, of honoring the legacies of those who have loved, cared, and sacrificed so much for us. My mom can’t remember the 178144_291500764287629_2055747195_ocountless diapers she changed, the endless meals she cooked, the summer vacations as we trekked all across the U.S. in our station wagon (from Mt. Rushmore to the Liberty Bell), the innumerable scrapes and bloody knees she bandaged up. She won’t recall the many soccer and football games and wrestling matches (during which she closed her eyes, anyway), when she didn’t care if we won or lost–just that we stayed safe. She won’t remember all her anxious moments, waiting for her teenagers to come home on Friday and Saturday nights, praying that we would always remember “not just who we are, but Whose we are.” She won’t remember sending us off to college, and her 8 hour drive of tears, after dropping me off at Trabor dorm. She won’t recall my wedding day. She might not even know who I am. And on top of her “job” as our mom, she won’t remember the music she played and wrote, the children’s musical she published, the degrees she earned, the countless people she loved and served.

But her loss of memory doesn’t change the fact that all those things happened. That she was–and is–my mom. Our mom. We have those memories. We remember them–we hold them up–for her. We hold her memories, her story, in a sacred trust.

My wish, my hope, my prayer this Mother’s Day is that a cure for Alzheimer’s would someday soon (in the not-too-distant-future) be found. It will be too late for her. But she never put herself first, anyway. The wish and prayer is for the millions and millions of moms and dads (and those who aren’t moms and dads) who are and will be diagnosed; that they will have a chance.

A story came out recently which suggests that Alzheimers’ research may be reaching a turning point. It will be long road yet, no doubt. But this gives me a little bit of hope that as researchers continue their extraordinary efforts, and as funding keeps coming in (keep it coming!), a stop can be put to this terrible disease.

In the meantime, we’ll keep the memories of those we love alive–we’ll remember for them.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! I love you.

 

 


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