On caregivers, faith, family, and writing…

Remember their love

The last few years of her life, Mom didn’t always know who I was. She knew who Linda was, but she didn’t remember that I was Linda. When she moved into assisted living, she called all the staff members with long, blonde hair by my name. I guess she remembered the younger, cuter me.

She seemed to remember the love, though. When she saw me, her eyes always lit up for a moment, as if she knew there was some special bond between us. When I told her I loved her, she always responded with I love you, too.

The last time I saw her, about a month before she died, she was unresponsive. She was in her geri lounger in the day room , supported in a sitting position by pillows and the tray across her lap. Her eyes were closed as I held her hands and spoke quietly to her. I told her how much I loved her and what a good mother she had been. I told her how much I would miss her but that it was okay to go with Jesus when He came for her. I told her I’d be along shortly and asked her to save me a place at His table. Her eyes fluttered a bit, but that was all. I like to think that somewhere, deep inside, underneath the ravages of Alzheimer’s, she remembered–but if she didn’t, that’s okay. I remember enough for both of us.



A Long and Winding Road: A Caregiver’s Tale of Life, Love, and Chaos


Comments on: "Caregiver Quotes and Tips #7 – Remember Their Love | by Linda Brendle" (6)

  1. MRS N, the Author said:

    Awww Linda, this blog post choked me up. It was so beautiful and really spoke about what really matters… love! 🙂 You are so filled with love and I know that you mum knew how much you loved her, even if she couldn’t speak it. 🙂

  2. Linda this is so beautiful. Christians know that this life is just a stepping stone that we need to get to our ultimate home in heaven but it is still so sad to see people we love so not remember. I went though a moment like that with my grandma and it is one I will never forget. Blessings my friend.

    • Yes, Liz. I would have been so much harder without the promise of seeing her again. Thank you for your sweet comment.
      Blessings to you,

  3. My mom is the same way. She calls me by my name, but I’m not “that” Lisa. But I can tell from the way she calms when I enter a room or perks up when she hears my voice that she knows somewhere in there that I mean safety and comfort and will always take care of her. Bless your heart. Love how you express things.

    • Yes, Lisa. It is so hard to see your loved ones disappear, but those moments when the fog clears ever so slightly are treasures to hold on to. Thank you for your sweet comment.

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