Forever the bearer of bad news

The caller ID shows that it is her calling again. The fifth time in the last 1/2 hour. Sometimes I answer, sometimes I ignore it...but, regardless, I have a sinking feeling. My mother doesn't remember that my father is dead, just that he is gone. She calls me to find out if I have heard from him, if I have news about him, if she can see him...if he has left her, and do I think she can get him back. Sometimes she'll sort of remember, "Is he one of the people who died recently?" But, that's rare.

My approach from the beginning of this phase of her disease was to follow the path of least resistance. For example, if she told me she hated where she was living, I'd tell her that I understood and that I'd be over in the morning to talk about it. By morning, the need to talk it over had faded. But, when it came to my father's death, the path of least resistance was unacceptable to me. My response to all of her questions about him is always the same -- 5 to 10 times a day, every day of the week -- "Do you remember that he died last June? All of our family came to pay their respects. You have the flag presented to you at Fort Logan in your glass cabinet..."

Forever the bearer of this devastating news, I listen as she relives his death over and over again. And in her reliving, I feel my own numbness slowly enveloping me...replacing my grief with an emptiness that's worse than the grief. "I'm so sorry, Mom. Is there something I can do for you?" But, I know there isn't.

As I type this, I see her name come up again on the caller ID. From the other room, I hear my husband answer the phone. Silence. Then, "Yes, do you remember that he died last June?..."