Logo Jerry Ham

Listmates,
Re: the thread concerning AD and child development. It has been very difficult for me to watch as my mother - the one who was always strong for me in my childhood and who I thought would always be there for me - has become the child. As the child learns to eat with the fingers, then with a spoon, progressing onto a fork, and also reaps praise for going to the bathroom without assistance, mom - in reverse - has forgotten how to do those same things as this disease progresses. It breaks my heart as I watch and hear her cry out, "Daddy? Daddy?" and now even, "Grandma? Grandma?" Often she'll suck on her thumbs or her fingers. I wrote the following poem about two years ago, and mom has become even more of a child since then. For the new members on this list, I hope that it will be appropriate for me to share this poem again on the list. For the "old timers," I apologize.







This fragile Child

A fragile child is what I see,
In those sad eyes looking back at me.
"Is this right, Daddy?" I hear her ask.
My heart is breaking, though the pain I mask.
"Mama, Where's Daddy?" I hear her say.
"Is he coming back to see me today?"
She talks from morning to late at night.
But nothing she says really sounds just right.
She holds the spoon, "What is this for?"
She asks the same question regarding the fork.
To dress herself, or to tie her shoes,
Is something she can no longer do.
A fragile child is what I see,
In those sad eyes looking back at me.
But I've known this person a very long while.
You see my mother is this fragile child.

© 1997/1999 by Jerry Ham

e-mail:Jerry.Ham@werner-saumweber.de

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