There was quite a remarkable life that ended in February of this year.
In February, our mother died in a nursing home in Milwaukee. She was 92 years old, and had lived her entire life in that town. Her own parents had also lived all of their lives in Wisconsin, along with numerous cousins, aunts and uncles. Families lived close by each other in those days, and Mother sorrowed at the diaspora of her children, who scattered themselves worldwide as they married and took up careers.
Words of condolence flowed towards our family. Friends, and even complete strangers, reached out in beautiful ways. It felt as though this death brought out oceans of kindness and compassion. People were at their most profound, at their very best. Love abounded, unencumbered by ego, political persuasion, religious bent.
Mother was remarkable for her musical talent and ability to dance. (Only social constraint kept her from dancing in the aisles at the local supermarket).
She was remarkable for her devotion to her four children, one of whom is developmentally disabled. She was well-educated and concerned about the issues of the day. She embodied tolerance and acceptance of those different from herself. She was very brave in the face of adversity.
In many ways, we had lost our mother many years before her physical passing. Alzheimer's disease had claimed her nearly 17 years before. And although she kept the ability to sing and play the piano until shortly before her death,
she had long since forgotten her children's names and birthdays.
The cruelty of this dementia appears absolute. I've often wondered why it should be visited on anyone, as lost recognition of loved ones and of lifelong memories robs a person of all sense of who they are. In fact, I and others have cried and gnashed our teeth at the unfairness of it.
Yet blessings accompany such an affliction as Alzheimer's. It is a blessing that the person's diminished awareness eases the pain of their losses. And those who are immersed in the caregiving learn profound patience and growth of spirit.
Three weeks ago, we held a celebration of our mother's life. With a six-month delay after her passing, there was time for the heavy sadness to heal; and there was time for friends and relatives to make their arrangements to attend.
Fifty of us gathered at the home of a good friend to celebrate a wonderful life. Mother's favorite music was played, and her favorite flowers adorned the scene. Morning clouds bowed to beautiful sunshine and soft breezes. Beloved friends and family gathered from across the generations and across the world.
Laughter was abundant as we told funny stories about a sometimes less-than-perfect person and her husband and children. All were bonded in a warm remembrance of a special woman.
So we say "until later" to the remarkable Marjorie Garlick Cook, who is likely at peace in a place without Alzheimer's. We're certain that she is now "dancing in the aisles" without constraint.
Susan Paslov is a retired attorney who teaches English as a Second Language. She is married, with three children and two grandchildren.
