I actually did have another visit inbetween today and the last one, but it was a family gathering and there really wasn't much to report. Today I went up on my own and found Mother with 25 or so others in the Great Room upstairs celebrating a birthday. They have a big birthday bash for everyone's birthday, and today it was the turn for a woman named Paulie. There was cake and ice cream and an ancient pianist strapped into a special chair on the piano bench. He was playing the old songs from the forties and everybody had a booklet to sing along.

During a meditation time yesterday I had a strong sense that I needed to go see Mother today. So, after getting some things done in the morning, I headed to The Birches to arrive right after lunch.

It was an odd Christmas this year. Since it was a Sunday, both David and I had church obligations in the morning. With my scheduled flight to Florida on Christmas night and Rob and Stephanie off visiting her parents, I was sort of on my own. So, once church was done and I had gotten packed for the trip, I headed up to The Birches.

The Birches is great about having parties, and this Christmas brought the second time we had the opportunity to feast with Mother at their holiday party. No political correctness there, the carols came from the piano, whether they were sacred or secular, the egg nog and wine flowed, and the food...both hot and cold...was superb.

It's been a year. It was the Monday after Thanksgiving in 2004 that Mother went to live at The Birches. It's hard to believe a whole year has passed. It's also hard to believe it hasn't been 20 years. Time has little meaning in the fog. There are fewer and fewer reference points.

I thought that today I might get to The Birches, but there was too much happening at work to get away. I feel like Mother lives outside of time. There's this other world she inhabits. There are schedules and changes there, too, but they are different somehow. They have nothing to do with the world outside, and the outside world pays their schedule no mind.

My 44 year-old brother had a heart attack this week, a week before the anniversary of my father's death from a heart attack at age 47. Aside from being yet another crisis that delayed visiting Mother, it raised one of the more difficult questions of Alzheimer's disease. Do we tell her?

Yes, it's been a long time since I've posted. Mother is still about the same, although she still has swelling in her feet. But my life has been so over the top that I haven't visited. I hope that will change this week.

What has changed already is that I have felt less guilty during the intervening weeks. I really saw last time that she is content where she is. At last, she is home. Not that she doesn't appreciate seeing me, but it was obvious that my presence was interrupting her routine. I guess that could be depressing, but it was freeing in its own way.

I finally got back to The Birches. After two distressing dreams about Mother, I was pretty much desperate to get back there and see her. As the time and traffic worked out, I got there about 5:30, just as everyone was finishing supper. Mother was seated with Russell and Frances and a woman I didn't know...their usual table pulled out to accommodate four.

I haven't been to The Birches this week and crisis upon crisis at the church conspires against my getting there soon. So now I'm feeling what others feel when you want to be somewhere and just can't get there. How do you not go visit your mother? How do you not have time for that? It's an untenable position. And yet there I am.