Alzheimer’s Took My Connection With My Mother

I wish I had known a decade ago that Alzheimer’s disease was set to disrupt my relationship with my mother.

On Mother’s Day in 2010, I found myself across the table from my mom at one of Chicago’s most upscale seafood brunch spots. At that time, I was a single mother living in the Loop with my two-year-old daughter. Every Friday, my mom would take the train from Indiana to spend time with her granddaughter, which also helped ease the burden of daycare costs.

That particular Mother’s Day weekend, I had convinced my mom to extend her stay through Sunday. The prospect of having her entirely to myself for the weekend was simply irresistible. I had saved enough to cover a babysitter and treat her to one of our favorite restaurants: Shaw’s Crab House. I had been longing to experience their famous Sunday brunch, and who better to share it with than my mom? A few times, I glanced over at her, thrilled to be enjoying coffee together in such an elegant atmosphere; it felt deeply satisfying.

Against her protests, I insisted on covering the brunch bill. In that moment, I sensed a permanent shift in our relationship. We had finally reached a point of equality.

Growing up, our relationship wasn’t particularly close. While my mom was nurturing, we lacked the special mother-daughter bond that many of my friends enjoyed. I never confided in her about boys or shared my heartbreaks, and my prom dress was an impulsive buy with my hard-earned money. When she saw it, she exclaimed, “I wanted to help you pick that out!” which caught me off guard.

Fast forward to 2010: as my friends drifted from their mothers, I felt like my mom and I were finally connecting. But that connection was short-lived.

The Decline

I first noticed something was amiss during a visit after my youngest daughter was born in 2014. By then, I had relocated to Florida, where I was married with five kids from our blended family. My mom seemed off—not her usual cheerful self, and she appeared agitated with my children. One day, she got lost while taking a walk with my youngest, leaving me concerned and confused.

Her subsequent visits revealed more alarming signs, but attempts to discuss my worries with my dad went nowhere.

In 2016, while I was in San Francisco for work, my mom flew in to help my husband with the kids. On the first day, my husband texted me that my mom was struggling, confused, and repeatedly asking when she would be going home. She sat in the living room with her suitcase, waiting for my dad to come “pick her up.” Though she found some joy in doing the dishes, she kept apologizing for “probably doing them wrong.”

Upon my return, I tried to engage her with the kids, but she wanted little to do with them. It was tough for my children, who had always looked forward to visits from their fun Grandma Mary. We explained to them that Grandma just needed some space, hoping they would understand.

It would take another three years before we received the official diagnosis, which brought a mixture of relief and pain to our family. Having a name for what we were experiencing meant we could finally start figuring out a treatment path.

The Shocking Truth

As I dove deeper into research on Alzheimer’s and dementia, I quickly realized how little I truly understood about these conditions. One of the first surprises was learning that Alzheimer’s is just one form of dementia—the most common, but not the only one.

The second revelation hit hard: Alzheimer’s can be fatal. I had always thought of it merely as a thief of memory, a cruel aspect of aging, but it is actually the sixth leading cause of death in the U.S., according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. More people die from Alzheimer’s than from breast and prostate cancers combined, per the Alzheimer’s Association.

A study from Rush University Medical Center predicts that by 2050, over 13 million Americans will be living with Alzheimer’s or another form of dementia. The life expectancy post-diagnosis can vary widely, with some patients living up to 15 or even 20 years if they are otherwise healthy. Alzheimer’s gradually shuts down crucial parts of the brain until it leads to death.

My mom, only 65 at diagnosis, was likely already five years into the disease. Though her physical health is relatively normal for her age, the rapid progression of her condition poses a grim reality of it potentially being the cause of her demise.

What Lies Ahead

Knowing that my mother has dementia, just like her own mother did, terrifies me personally. How long until this condition affects me? Some research suggests that high stress in middle age can trigger early stages of Alzheimer’s, while others claim that coffee consumption may help keep it at bay. There’s no definitive answer for preventing Alzheimer’s, and no cure exists.

I often wonder if I will know my own grandchildren. Will I have the cognitive capacity to enjoy moments with them? I think about my life’s accomplishments. Do I have time to complete my thoughts scribbled in notebooks or unfinished Google Docs? Will I leave behind a legacy that fills me with pride? Am I making the most of my time?

To combat my worries, I’ve adjusted my lifestyle—focusing on healthy fats over grains, exercising daily, and prioritizing family moments over work that doesn’t inspire me. I strive to embrace quiet, non-productive time and take on new challenges, even when they intimidate me. I make it a point to say “I love you” and “I’m sorry” more often and let go of small grievances. I keep a gratitude journal to reflect on the good.

I refuse to let Alzheimer’s dictate my future. I want to know my grandchildren, and I’m fighting for that now. As for my mom, medication seems to be helping her symptoms, and on most days, she appears content. Our family is adapting to this new reality, mourning in our own ways.

For me, the grief lies in the moments that will never be—those future Mother’s Day brunches that will remain only a wish. But from this sorrow emerges self-awareness. Time is not on my side as I once thought. Now is the moment to express my feelings, write my thoughts, and cherish my loved ones. Time is a finite resource, and this moment is all that we have.

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Summary

A personal reflection on how Alzheimer’s disease has impacted the relationship between the author and her mother, highlighting the journey of recognizing symptoms, the reality of the diagnosis, and the quest for connection amidst impending loss. The narrative emphasizes the importance of cherishing relationships and living in the moment.

Keyphrase

Alzheimer’s and Mother-Daughter Relationship