This night she goes frantic over a fire (in reality it was a quiet rainy night) in her house (in reality we are in our house and the other house is my sister's house). She needed to do something and save her children (in reality we are the children and we are definitely old). She's waiting for her husband whom she knew will soon be home (in reality, my father had been dead a long time).
There isn't much that can be done. She cannot be appeased with rational explanations or even riding along with the dementia. The best way is to distract but there are times when it just doesn't work.
We just have to make it through the night and the dawn until it passes away.
In the wee hours, my sister and I are taking turns trying to handle the situation. We must not let our helplessness lead to frustration and anger. We must keep awake as she attempts to go out of the house and remain sensitive to her physical condition most especially her blood pressure.
In this wee hours, I pick up my pencils and draw- Mother Mary. It is not the best drawing but I need my Mother Mary now while my biological mother is in dementia. I need her to cry with me although I can not externally cry. I need my Mother Mary to smile amidst the tears and remind me...
there is still something worth smiling for.
