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A true poem of my own Mothers battle with Dementia.  You were the best Mother.

Twenty Five years ago this week you died. It was such a shock I cried and cried


But deep in my heart, it didn't feel as if you had just died.
To me your illness took away my Mother.
And left someone else there, another
Someone who didn't even know the time of day.
Or even what day it was, Monday or Saturday.
You couldn't even make a cup of tea.
Let alone keep your flat, like it used to be.
You phoned me constantly day and night.
I tried to get to see you, with all of my might.
But I couldn't do it, not then at all,
then you had that dreadful fall.
You didn't know what Agoraphobia was.
I couldn't tell you well, because.
You hated the home we had to put you in.
But by then you couldn't do a thing.
Alzheimer's, senile dementia, I’m not
even sure what you had.
All I know is, it was very bad
It robbed me of my Mother so many years
before she actually died.
We couldn't get through to you
no matter how hard we tried.
You lived in a little world of your own
making us all feel so alone.
You used to be so clever, so strong, so true,
 Then just look what this illness did to you.
You used to knit, sew all our clothes you did make
everything we ate, you did bake.
When you were younger such good jobs you had.
like ten whole years at the Nat.West.Bank.
before the war. 
Then seven years nursing the soldiers during the war.
After you married and had us two.
You still worked so hard, so much to do,
For years you ran the taxi business we had.
Throughout the good and even the bad.
I had to answer the phone at four years of age
(Haywood’s taxi’s) I would say,
Then our business folded through, 
you still worked so hard' so much to do.
With my father you managed the Bridgford Wine stores
on Melton Road,West Bridgford, for many years,
Then on Parliament Street to
   Smith Englefield  you went
You worked there for many years 
until to ( Gem ) you were sent
You worked so hard, all of your life,
A wonderful Mother, a wonderful Wife
You were the best Mother, anyone could have had, 
until your illness, made everything so bad
So please God in heaven above. 
Send my Mum all my love.  By Pat Dring Nee Haywood
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