I don’t often talk about my mother other than to say how much I admire what she’s given up in terms of a life to become the primary caregiver for my father. Dealing with Alzheimer’s ain’t easy. Not by any stretch of the imagination is it easy. My parents had dreams they wanted to pursue once my father retired. There were places to go, friends to visit, a new place to build, and a life without workplace stress to experience. Those dreams are gone. Life as she knew it is gone. Well, changed. Mom is also a self-professed survivor of Catholic school during a time in which God was shoved down students’ throats and nuns would be sued for their methods of discipline if they still used them today. It left a proverbial bad taste in mom’s mouth. It also colored her perception of religion in general, which I didn’t fully realize until she said something to me during a phone conversation the other night.
“I blame God every day for what’s happening to your father. How can any merciful God do this to someone and their family?”