My mother

This is my mother. My mother is the sweetest, most peaceful person I know. She has a wicked sense of humor, and if you hear her life story, her sense of peace and joy becomes remarkable. There was a point in her life when she had to chose to forgive, and to not become resentful or bitter. She is truly lovely. She also seems to be descending in to the fog of Alzhiemers. She is easily confused, repeats herself constantly, and forgets things like taking her pills, who visited her yesterday, and the names of her daughters. We told ourselves that the stress of my father's death, and subsequent sorrow, was to blame, and that once she adjusted, things would improve. This has not been the case. I have heard that Alzhiemers can strip people of their personality, and remove their social inhibitions so that they say outrageous things. I am grateful that we are not at that point with my mother. She is still a joy to be around, although it is very bittersweet. I am trying to see her has often as I can, and making sure my children get plenty of time to talk with her, hear her stories, and store up good memories of her. Her memory of the distant past is still pretty good (a little jumbled at times) and so they have heard first hand her memories of the concentration camp in WWII, her reunion with her parents, and her birth in a remote mountain village in China. I am reminded that life is fleeting, and that we must be able to say "God is enough" in order to be truly happy.