A loving journey with a mother’s dementia… and occasional humour. Part Two
(This post is 1000 words, a ten-minute read)
The photo, below, shows my final attempt at an ‘ark’, as we came to call them: a place of refuge in times of extreme storms. The idea of the ark was born of the need to direct my mother to a point of safety and temporary sanity when the storms hit.
The refuge from the storm, the ark, was the presence of money. Just a small amount of money – typically, ten or twenty pounds. Enough to buy bread, milk and a few other staples to tide her over before I paid my next visit. The phone call, often in the middle of the night, told the familiar story: “Steve, I’ve lost all my money!” Then, there would be a pause. “And I’ve looked everywhere… It’s been stolen, again.”
View original post 1,067 more words