All Poetry

Alzheimer’s: Grieving the Loss of My Mother

By Barbara Leonhard, Featured Contributor

[Part 1 – Fire & Ice: The Faces of Grief]

As a way to examine grief and loss, I will share my story of the loss of my mother to Alzheimer’s, one of the most devastating forms of dementia.

What is Alzheimer’s?

According to the Alzheimer’s Association, Alzheimer’s Disease is a dementia caused by the building up of plaques—deposits of protein fragments that create spaces between neurons (nerve cells)—as well as tau tangles inside the cells of the brain itself.

alzheimer diagra.jpg

This disease kills the nerve cells, leading to shrinkage of the brain and the loss of brain tissue. As a result, people with this disease lose their memories and experience cognitive dysfunction as well as behavior and mood changes. They become confused about time and place, have trouble doing daily tasks, misplace things and are unable to trace their steps to find them, and have difficulty understanding visual and spatial relationships.

Unfortunately, approximately 47 million people in the world have dementia, with 5 million just in the U.S. alone. This number is expected to reach 14 million by 2050. Of all those who suffer from dementia, it is estimated that 60% to 80% have Alzheimer’s Disease.

Who Are the Caregivers?

Did you know that it is estimated that 16 million people provide unpaid care to those suffering with dementia? More than 80% of caregivers are family, friends, or other uncompensated caregivers. Consider the fact that these caregivers are then unable to work a full-time job. This means that they are not contributing to society in the way they had expected or wanted, and they may not be able to provide for themselves later in their own elderly years, despite having devoted years to caring for others. Or, rather—what about those who work full-time and are still caregivers?

My mother was fortunate enough to be able to afford to live in an independent living facility before moving into assisted living. However, due to her cognitive problems, she thought her kids should have paid her rent and bills. So what do people do if they can’t afford a facility and their family doesn’t have a proper place? For instance, our house had stairs, which my mother couldn’t handle. Additionally, I would be at work all day, and my husband held music lessons at home. Not exactly an ideal place. Therefore, part of my grief response was unrealistic guilt that I had failed as a daughter by not caring for my mother in my home. Mom had cared for her mother-in-law in our home in Montana, so I think she expected me to do the same.

Because we see such a high percentage of people with Alzheimer’s and other forms of dementia, we tend to think that this is a normal part of aging. However, the effects of this disease are traumatic on both the family members and the caregivers. I sought grief counseling while I was caring for Mom.

My Journey with Mom

Because I worked full time as an instructor, a job that took a great deal of time after 5:00 PM, I gave up my social life to help Mom. She couldn’t do it without me. I felt increased physical pain and sorrow. To be clear—I am not complaining, just sharing. I know I am not alone.

I became my mother’s memory and warrior. When I recall all the problems this condition caused for her, I honestly don’t know how people who have no family can actually manage. At least I had siblings who helped support me in this endeavor. One brother who lived down the street, in fact. Even with the support, I was her primary caregiver.

An Unforgiving Process

As I watched the disease progress, I noticed she forgot recently learned information, told the same stories over and over, forgot names and appointments, and even started to forget her kids. She had seven children, and her purpose in life was to raise us. It hurt when she forgot us. A brother wanted to surprise her with a visit. He stood by the entrance to the independent living facility where she was living at the time. She walked right past him on her way to the car, not recognizing him. She remembered him from his childhood days but not at his present age.

Because she saw a lot of me, she remembered me, but she would forget I was her helper and her memory. When I arrived to pick her up for appointments, she would sometimes be gone, having begged a ride from the director of the facility! And despite my informing the employees not to ever give her rides (as I was going to), they would anyway…and leave her out in front of the building in the cold with her walker. I’m not sure how she even found the doctor’s office, but someone would eventually help her.

Mom also had trouble finding things and remembering how to perform simple tasks. I started writing her checks for her. Fortunately, she didn’t drive. She had sold her car before moving. It isn’t easy for the elderly to give up their cars and checkbooks. I’m grateful she turned over the checkbook to me willingly. Even though I knew she would forget our agreements, I always asked her permission. I feel she trusted me deep down.

Her memory caused her other problems. Forgetting she had medical insurance, she would apply for more, so companies would drop her. Or she was targeted by scammers, so I took her credit cards and other important personal information that she could give to a scammer on the phone. Her mental capacity and cognitive reasoning skills also declined. She would come to the car without her coat in 30-degree weather. To her, if the sun was shining, it was hot—period. I kept an extra coat in the car for these days.

A Season’s Change

Changes in mood and personality are also signs of Alzheimer’s Disease. Having Type 2 Diabetes, mom needed to care for her feet, but she was forgetting. We discovered at a doctor’s office that her feet were in bad shape. She was so embarrassed that she started hitting me in the car as I drove her to the pharmacy for things to help her with the condition. I was so stunned by it that I almost veered into traffic. This kind of reactive, violent behavior is more typical of Alzheimer’s as opposed to other forms of dementia.

When doctors would give her memory tests, she failed them. If she didn’t know the time or place or decade or president (and so on), she would say that those things didn’t matter. What was the difference? It was not important who the president was. I would often rush her to the ER because she was in pain, but once there, she would say she was absolutely fine. What was the big deal? I feel she was just too confused to identify where the pain was or know if there really was any pain. I could be her memory but not her body. I felt helpless when she had pain. Ignoring the pain would be elder abuse, but if she denied the pain, what could I do?

At most doctor’s visits, of course, they would talk to her, not me. I would stand behind her and shake my head “no” adamantly when her answers were wrong. She was too confused about her situation at all times to recall why she was where she was. She also had trouble communicating. She would forget words or stumble over word choices. As a result of her confusion, she felt insecure and fearful. She constantly counted things, checked her purse, and looked for things all day.


My mother started to be confused about the time of day, and I suspected she wasn’t going to bed. I think she was just sitting up all night in her clothes because I failed to see a change in outfits. At the assisted living facility, they wouldn’t force her to change her clothes. If they asked three times and she refused, then no clean clothes. The same went with bathing. They wouldn’t force her to shower.

I felt helpless at times. I couldn’t be there with her all day and night to make sure she was bathed and dressed appropriately. Even if I was there to help her with her CPAP machine, I suspect that she removed it as soon as I left.

In 2016, my mother died after suffering from Alzheimer’s for at least 13 years. She was 89.

The following poem describes how I saw my mother’s mental disintegration during this time.


A garden once planted in spring,
bearing life in shade and sun,
is now tangled with weeds and blight.

A hearty yield once sustained by dew and noon rains,
now forgets in autumn light.

Baskets of Gold, having bloomed and stretched for sun,
now shrivel, scorched by drought.

Honeysuckle, a trespasser in flora
that once nurtured monarchs and bees.

Wisdom of soils and seedlings,
now crumbles to dust.

Once a bounty of bliss, now wild bramble
on depleted soil.

Her secret garden.

[Part 3 – Grief: Healing Through Poetry]


Author Bio


Barbara Leonhard is a writer, poet, and blogger at Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver.  Her podcast Poetry: The Memoir of the Soul explores universal themes such as Grief, Kindness, and Presence. She taught writing for many years at the University of Missouri and is the author of Discoveries in Academic Writing. She is also a regular contributor to Free Verse Revolution and Go Dog Go Café.

Poetry Blog:

If you would like the opportunity to be a contributor on, click here for details. 

27 replies »

  1. My mother, too, died from Alzheimer’s, July 6, 2011. All the things you describe are true. She would know who I was, we’d be talking and laughing, then she would narrow her eyes and hiss out, “Where is my daughter?!” I learned to go with the flow. I stood up and told her I would go get her (me). Went out the door, came back in. “Hi, Ma!” “Oh, I’ve been waiting for your!” and we would continue on. Or she would say, “Do you know what your father did!?” “Uh, no, what did he do?” thinking I’d get some inside scoop about something salacious (Dad died in 1970, btw). “What did who do?” “Dad…” “I have no idea what you’re talking about…” and on she’d go down another track.

    I miss her…I missed her back then when I needed her to tell me what she needed. I miss her now when I need her to tell me what I’ll be needing as I get on to her age…

    Blessings on your heart, Barbara. Here’s to our moms… 🙂

  2. Thank you for sharing your story in such a respectful and dignified way. I am going through the same thing currently with a mom in memory care with severe dementia during a lock down preventing visits. My mom today is not my mom of yester year. She lives a life of confusion, pain and loneliness. All things my brothers and I promised we would not let happen to her. She has been heart broken and struggling for 10 years since y dad passed away. It’s a horrible disease and a horrible existence that most who are not going thru it don’t understand. There is nothing cute, funny or endearing about it. It’s devastating and soul crushing to have to watch your most loved one descend into a hell she does not deserve and can’t know how much we love her .

  3. Thank you for sharing your story. You are right, you aren’t alone. Unfortunately not a lot of people share their stories. Dementia is an incredibly sad and challenging disease for patient and caregivers. Caregivers can be hard hit with intense guilty feelings when they feel they could have done more when in reality they couldn’t have. I believe doctors and other health care professionals may be able to do more in supporting caregivers of patients with dementia, though I admit it can be quite a challenge. I believe this post would help another person going through similar, letting them know they are not alone in what they feel, their pain and their struggles.

    The poem is beautiful.
    I pray your today and tomorrow will be much better than the past and that your mom’s soul rest in peace. She’s lucky to have had you.

  4. Thank you for the post. My mom was diagnosed last summer with early onset at age 62. My grandpa also had it and passed away in his early 70s. Thanks for sharing your beautiful poem <3

  5. A powerful essay, Barbara. I am moved by the work you did and your commitment to your mother. I think of my sister who provided care for her husband with Frontal Temporal Dementia for many years until he finally lost his battle on her birthday. Like you, my sister gave up so much and has spent much of the years that past recovering her own sense of self as she moves forward into a life dramatically different than what she had anticipated. Your story, too, is heroic and necessary to tell. To be human, truly human, we must do these things when called to by what life gives us. Your inspire me. Thank you.

  6. Pam, thank you for sharing your journey with your mother, painful as it was. “Erosion” is a truly apt description of the gradual loss of neuron connections. I’m 82, focusing on positive energy and a strong immune system. My prayer is that if my brain starts to disintegrate that my spirit will gather me up and transform from matter to energy.

  7. Reblogged this on Extraordinary Sunshine Weaver and commented: has published the second part of my article on my mother’s struggle with Alzheimer’s. You can access Part 1 via the link provided before the article starts.
    These installments are based on my poetry podcast on this topic.
    Please like, share, and follow. Others with loved ones who have Alzheimer’s May benefit from the information.

  8. Pam, I am so sorry to hear of your loss. It is tough and cruel disease. We are truly left with positive memories. They sustain us as we grieve our loss of loved ones to Alzheimer’s even before their deaths. My prayers!

  9. Shook me while reading the post…must have been an agonizing personal experience….u were brave…..thanks for sharing and educating people on the disease….the poem was expressive…after the painful last years, I believe the almighty is taking gr8 care of ur mother….Take care…

  10. Sad but still beautiful post about the wide-reaching devastation and difficulties of supporting a loved one with Alzheimers. I too lost my Mother to this dreadful “slow death” in 2001. Of all the tough situations that were faced, I think the saddest one was when she no longer knew who her children were – to become a stranger to my own Mom was something I intellectually understood as part of her journey with Alzheimers but it was quite devastating. After all these years I am able to remember the positive times though – pain fades, love remains. Thank you for sharing your story……….. Pam

    • Pam, I am so sorry to hear of your loss. It is tough and cruel disease. We are truly left with positive memories. They sustain us as we grieve our loss of loved ones to Alzheimer’s even before their deaths. My prayers!

We welcome you to share...