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I got 2 phones one for my mom9/23/2023 ![]() I eagerly looked forward to visiting her that night to hear her tell me about the afternoon that had clearly brought her so much joy. The 15-second snippet would carry me - giddy - through the rest of the day’s meetings. The woman who had come to the United States from Ireland as a new bride in 1957 - not the pale imitation of the woman I had last seen dance this way at her grandson’s wedding in August 2019, the night before a stroke would set off the tumbling dominoes of dementia. There she was: her hair perfectly coifed, still jet black, the slight swivel of the hips, the intentional way she tapped her Mary Jane-clad feet in time to “When the Saints Go Marching In.” My mother. My mother, 85 and her mind riddled by dementia, was dancing at a happy hour at the assisted-living center near me where she lives.
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