A Little Death

Lindsey Glass, M.A. Speech Pathology, Class of 2024

I remember it clearly; the realization of what death was. Every living being dies. That meant the most important person in my life, my mom. I was around the age of four and realized my mom would die someday. The absolute disbelief and devastation. I threw myself on the kitchen floor, completely inconsolable. My mom comforted me. I do not remember what lead me to this realization, perhaps our pet hamster had recently passed. But my mom? She would die someday. This could not be. I refused to accept this fact. Eventually, after much of her kind and soothing words, she comforted me, and I moved on. This was part of life and I had to accept it. Now at the age of 32, honestly, I do not think I really accepted it, especially my mom dying someday.

I remember her kind and soothing words and know she is still here; things are just different now.

Lindsey Glass, M.A. Speech Pathology, Class of 2024

The Alzheimer’s disease that has invaded my mother’s brain has attacked my life like a steadily waiting Trojan Horse. But rather waiting just a day or so to ambush, the disease waited years to unveil itself with its subtle signs. Now in its full force, it takes more of her every day. It is like witnessing a little death each day. My mom, she has good and bad days. Some days she can recognize something is not right. Other days she is restless and searching for something and cannot express herself with language. I feel like I am four again and all I want in this world is my mom to console me, but she cannot. I must console myself and sometimes her. I tell myself it will be okay. I remember her kind and soothing words and know she is still here; things are just different now. This is a part of life, so I comfort myself and move forward. We move forward.