For Isabel

We never knew when she went away... exactly. It was over a period of time, A little loss, each day...or hour. Accumulating surely, slowly, but steadily, in the wake of our determination to stop it. This can’t happen to Mama, we wont let it. But it did. Nothing we could do or say brought back the loss. Leaving a little at a time, Creeping steadily away to God only knows where, we didn’t find it. I guess it is a misnomer to say the loss accumulated but... that goes along with the frustration of it all. The only thing getting larger was the number of unread thoughts in her conscious self. That imaginary room where we all go to reason. First it was polite mistakes covered over with hurried excuses. Then dumbfounded looks as thoughts drifted apart in the middle of speaking. Motor skills begin to wane, and die, as loss takes over life’s necessary functions. Eventually the child brushing her mother’s hair had no reason to hurt...But she did just the same. Even a tiny spark of knowing who was caring so much for her, would have been gold to the daughter, but the reward usually never came. Soon the child once brushing her mother’s hair didn’t hurt for her mother... but for herself in the wake of no one for which to care. Having been in emotional overload for so long her own feelings are now lost. She doesn’t know how to feel. In honor of my wife whose mother passed in this fashion.