Natalie Jay

The unbroken bond: A tribute to my mother

Hi, Ma.”

Sometimes, the small, frail 92-year-old woman responds with “Oh, I am so glad you are here” or a “Hi, Bubbela.” Many times I get a blank stare with no recognition of who I am. For many years now, my mother, who has dementia and is in an assisted living facility, has not said my name. When the aides ask, “Who is this?,” she will respond “a woman” or “a relative.”

It is sad to see what has happened to a woman who did everything to keep her brain functioning normally. She had a head for figures; she could finish The New York Times Sunday crossword puzzles; she played both classical and contemporary music on the piano; she painted, beautifully.