Well Mom, that’s it then, eh what?
I’m next. Then it’s the end of the line.
We had some good times there, in the early and in the middle years. We were not the family Rockwell had in mind when he painted. But you and I had some good times. We even had a real Mother-Daughter experience once.
I have no regrets. For you I wished that life would have been more up to your expectations. I don’t think you ever got all that you thought you deserved.
Of course you grew up in rough times. WWII was not kind to you. And the fact that our family home was situated in what became East Germany was no help either. I thank you and Dad for the courage to join the great exodus and start over in West Germany. I had a lot of opportunities because of your choice.
So now you are dead. Your body finally caught on to the fact that your mind died a while back. Never in a million years did I think you would end up with dementia.
Your brain was always active. You could remember anything ever produced by every author, play writer, and composer. You could remember the story line of anything. You knew the reason, date and location of any battle ever fought, and who won.
Of course you also were sure you would get an electric shock from something that was not even plugged in. You were so bloody impractical, I always joked that it was a miracle that you survived this long. (I got a pinched smile for that joke.)
But being impractical and getting dementia are two different things. I noticed about 10 years ago that you could no longer walk and talk at the same time. You stopped to talk. Later I read a study that that is one of the early sings of the onset of dementia.
So dear friends, when you see me stopping to talk, be kind, give me a heads up. Then it is time to get my affairs in order. I have responsibilities. There is no one to mop up after me. I need to leave a clean slate. I’m the end of the line now.