Thankful for the Covid Pandemic

The pandemic had devastating worldwide implications. But I will forever be thankful that because of Covid-19, I was able to create memories in what turned out to be the last year of my mother's life.

If Covid hadn't escalated I wouldn't have got marooned in Britain and spent five quality months living with my Mum. Alzheimer's is known as the long goodbye. You lose the person you love, one piece at a time. Each stage feels like the worst you'll experience, but it's just one more step along a deteriorating road.

The carers said she knew who I was. They were just being kind. There was no flicker of recognition when I walked into the room. She'd forgotten she had a daughter, but she let me cuddle and kiss her—and that was enough.

She had an eye for a younger man, and took a special interest in my husband. She'd slip her hand into his and trot by his side. Her eyes sparkled and the corner of her lips twitched upwards. She was the cat who got the cream. It was a heart-warming to see her experience a moment of joy. 

There were many of these small moments during the height of the pandemic. Simple, but memorable. Etched in my mind. 

Sketch I drew of my Mum and brother for the Order of Service

When she passed, my brother and I were sitting at her bedside. We knew it was going to be the day. Her breathing pattern changed multiple times. We took it in turns to play songs from our past. Shared childhood memories. Waiting for the inevitable. My Mum took a sharp intake of breath and grimaced. Then just incase we'd missed it, she did it again. Then she was gone. 

I hugged her. She was still warm and the back of her neck radiated heat. For a brief moment I could imagine I was tucking her in and sharing a goodnight kiss. But this was a forever sleep. I caressed her mottled hand and said my goodbyes.

A Mother Remembered

I wrote a poem for the order of service, told from my mother's perspective:

I lived my life, full speed ahead.

Got up early—escaped my bed.

My days were full, of things I loved.

I weeded hard, with both hands gloved.

My cottage garden in full bloom

A piece of art to tend and groom.

I strode across the countryside.

A pair of Westies as my guide.

I loved the freedom. Loved to roam.

The green landscape would lead me home.

I had so many things to do. 

I’d juggle them the whole day through.

My coffee cakes and Bakewell tarts.

A hit in Mary Berry’s charts.

I’d knit and crochet, do some crafts.

Share’with my kids, through photographs.

I couldn’t bear to sit and waste,

Remaining time, so I would chase.

The hours to fill my day ahead

To dodge the thief within my head.

About Jay Artale

Jay Artale abandoned her corporate career to become a digital nomad and full-time writer. She’s an avid blogger, podcaster, and nonfiction author helping travel writers and travel bloggers achieve their self-publishing goals. She shares tips, advice, and inspiration to writers with an independent spirit at her website Birds of a Feather Press, and documents her travels and artistic endeavours at her blog Roving Jay. Follow her on Instagram or Facebook or Twitter.

Jay is the author of A Turbulent Mind: A Poetry Collection of a Mother's Journey with Alzheimer's.