Now that I am in the autumn of my life, I find it one of the most colorful and favorite times of my life. The angst of the teenage years and the stress of the working, parent years have passed. Time is now in abundance and the joy of the moment I had as a child has returned. Always having been contemplative, I have the pleasure of spending time reflecting, especially on the passage of my life. And, I find those thoughts begin with my mother.
As a child and young adult, I spent little time thinking about my mother as a person independent of my relationship with her. She was nothing more than my mother. Someone who was just "there for me." Her role was relegated to a side player in the scenes of my life.
One of my strongest memories is how our house was the daily gathering place. For many years, my mother was a "social being." Because she was an extrovert extraordinaire, she had many friends. People would call her on the telephone, come to visit, and invite her out to functions. She laughed often and talked much.
As a teenager, I was embarrassed to be in her company. Often, I would cringe because she had a strongly stated opinion about most things that were contrary to general public opinion. For example, she held the opinion that the war in Vietnam was over oil rights. Despite this tendency of hers to voice her views, she truly was loved and respected. I was amazed.
When she reached the autumn years of her life, I noticed a dramatic change in her behavior. My mother started to turn inward. The extravert became an introvert seemingly overnight. As time progressed, she continued to withdraw from interacting with friends, family and neighbors. It was a startling change. For years, I could not figure out the reason. Then one day, she was diagnosed with dementia. Everything started to fall into place for me. I watched as she become quieter and less verbal.
Finally, the mother I knew disappeared. She lost her voice. There was no yesterday, today, or tomorrow.
