Alzheimer's: Ways to say goodbye, but hold close

This past week one of the sweet gentlemen who lived in Mom’s memory care facility passed away. My dad and I had become close with his lovely family, spending time with them in the caregiver support group and connecting at events for residents and random visits.

Dad and I went to his celebration of life, and it took me back to the not-that-many-months-ago time when we were going through those rituals for Mom.

Saying goodbye is so hard. My daughter and I found multiple ways to help us bid farewell to my mom during that time. And things that truly helped us find comfort and connection through our loss.

Even during Mom’s dementia journey, Alicia had already established habits that helped her feel close to her nana. Over the years Alicia ended up with some of Mom’s old T-shirts and things Mom did not want or need anymore. Alicia loves to sleep in those roomy shirts which hang on her. My favorite is the Barney Fife “Nip It In the Bud” tee. Wearing Nana’s shirts for sleep is comfy and helped Alicia, even before Mom left this life.

In the cold months right after Mom’s passing, I constantly donned the bright blue fleece jacket Mom had worn all the time. She easily got chilly and always wanted a jacket or sweatshirt. As Dad divvied up her things, he gave the jacket to me, and it has become my special “around the house” comfort wear.

At Alicia’s high school graduation, she and I both wore rings that had belonged to my mom as a way to have her there with us on that special day. And Alicia daily wears necklace that used to belong to her grandmother. I will particularly put on the ring I ended up with on days when I’m feeling a little lost. That pearl ring that my Granny gave my mom helps me feel anchored.

My mom loved hummingbirds. I found a simple but beautiful necklace with a hummingbird pendant on a trip to Biltmore few weeks after her passing. I wear that most every day now, as a comforting remembrance.

We hold these talismans close and that helps us to continue to hold Mom close.

Alicia and I used the flowers from Mom’s service in multiple different ways to help us process her passing. Dad had selected a gorgeous spray of violet roses and purple flowers, the color for Alzheimer's, on her casket. We went back later and took a couple of roses to dry and keep.

We stayed with my dad for a few days after the funeral services. As we headed home, Dad implored us to take some of the remaining flowers with us. We had several arrangements family members and friends had lovingly sent us. Those made me so happy. I’m the type of person who always had fresh flowers on the kitchen table. Even just a $5 bunch of bargain flowers from the grocery store makes life brighter and better, I think.

Alicia and I took flowers home that we pressed and dried and later framed. She put some in collages of photos of Mom.

My daughter had another idea that became one of the best. My parents have a small pond down by their house. Alicia asked if we could take some of the flowers and set them on the water, as a tribute to Nana.

My husband and I walked down to the water with our daughter and spent some quiet moments lying roses, zinnias, iris and an assortment of brightly colored blooms loose on the water. Alicia took photos and videos with her phone. It was a peaceful and beautiful moment that centered us before we got back in the car to head home and back to our “normal” life.

I ended up using those photos to create thank you cards for the many who supported us in the wake of Mom’s passing, sending flowers, meals, making donations and so much more. (True confession: Those cards are taking me forever to write. Something about that process is so hard, which is a surprise to me because I’m generally a big-time letter writer and card sender. But I’m trying.)

Recently I received a helpful mailing from AuthoraCare, the amazing Hospice service who assisted us in Mom’s final months. And this quote about “Letting Go of Grief” jumped out at me:

“Our relationship is changed, not ended.” – Sandie Caplan and Fordon Lang, Grief’s Courageous Journey: A Workbook

It may sound odd, but all of these coping mechanisms my daughter and I have found have kept my Mom close to me, even as she’s physically gone.

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