Merciless...

Most of the time lately when I look at my mother, I want to cry.

I want there to be a place where this stops for her; a place where the sun breaks through the clouds and the greens are greener, the birds are busy with their odd little bird songs and the smell of the earth is fresh and clean.

Her eyes can see, but her brain doesn't know what to do with it. The range is about 18" away from her face. Her ears can hear, but her brain takes minutes to process what she hears, and again, it mostly needs to be inside that 18" periphery. Hmm, not periphery... it actually needs to be in front of her for her to understand it.

I expect the zone to get smaller as time passes. How quickly or how slowly that occurs is probably anyone's guess. H and I were talking about that as we drove home last night.

Even as her world shrinks, there are moments, hours, maybe even a day, when everything is almost normal. Her comfort in that is palatable even though she doesn't actually speak of it. Just as suddenly and unpredictably as clarity occurs, it disappears.

The words she says most often to us are still, "I love you."