aTRACKion

Chapter Twenty Seven

Doug....

Sitting beside my mother's legs, I glance up at Frankie while making myself comfortable on the wooden floor. Giving me an encouraging little smile, her loving blue eyes will me to be close to my mum.

For the first time since my resentment began, I look properly at my mother. I'm looking at her still and inert features. I'm studying her lethargic and inexpressive face. It's been so long since I last properly looked right into her brown eyes; the eyes that are the very same shade of russet as my own. Her lips are still the same, too; only they are no longer ever stained with the cranberry coloured lipstick that she always used to love to wear for special occasions.

I guess, mum's face is still the same. But it's a face that is merely a mask for her Alzheimer's. Mum's eyes don't shine like they used to. She doesn't smile anymore. Her cheeks don't rosily glow. No, mum has gone. Alzheimer's has her—body, mind and spirit—it has her.

But Frankie said that my mum is still somewhere behind that mask, that she's somewhere inside of that shell; so my shaky hand slowly lifts to the frail hand of my mother's. Trying to quell the resentment that has long pumped around my body, my hand is soon upon mum's. My heart is racing, racing with rising anxiety. And yet, my hand is still upon my mum's. Not really knowing what to say, I stupidly find myself introducing who I am to her. "It's Doug, Mum...your son." Looking at her eyes, I'm hoping to see some weak flicker of recognition within them...but there's nothing.

Again, I look at Frankie. I'm feeling lost again. Lost in silent hopelessness.

"She's your mum, talk to her like you used to." With her soft words of encouragement, Frankie smiles my way before walking to the other side of the communal room. She's not leaving me, she's just giving me some private time with my mum.

With the palm of my hand still pressed against my mum's, I just start talking. "That's Frankie, I think you'll be seeing a lot more of her, Mum. You will love her, just like I do." My smile is felt around my mouth, which only makes me smile some more. "I'm still DJ'ing. I think you'd be really proud of what I am doing these days. Things are going really great with my music." My eyes look again into my mum's, now knowing that I'll not see a flicker of anything within them, but I carry on talking regardless. "I know I haven't been the son that you taught me to be, and for that, I am sorry. But this disease, Mum...I've struggled with it." My head lowers while I need to just breathe in a little more air. "I'm sorry for being mad at you, when I should only be mad at the Alzheimer's. I'm sorry for not being there for you, because you can no longer be here for me." My hand is giving hers an apologetic little squeeze. As her son, I really am sorry. I am sorry for so damn much. "It's been so hard, Mum. To watch you change. To watch you lose yourself. I think the hardest part for me, is knowing that I have lost you once already, and when this disease finally takes your last breath, I am going to lose you all over again." In silence, I softly cry with my hand still on my mum's. I'm crying because I am finally admitting to myself where all of my pain truly stems from—Alzheimer's will win twice.

In life, it has my mum.

In death, it will forever have my mum.

That's why I have detached myself from her. Why I have emotionally distanced myself from being her son. The disease itself has been awful to watch at every single one of its stages.

In the beginning, I was confused and in denial. In the middle of it, my fears began to grow and that is when I first started needing to pull away from all that was happening. Now, all of my fears feel so dreadfully inevitable—the end is coming.

That's the sorrowful truth of why
I've pulled away from mum, because I know she's going to die.

"Doug?" Frankie is standing over me, stroking my head with her thoughtful fingers. "Do you need more time alone or do you want me to stay?"