She's still my mother, who's standing there.
It's still her eyes, her face, her hair.
It's still her body, but it's just a shell,
Of the mother that I once knew so well.
She's still my mother, who looks at me,
Then asks the question, "Who might you be?"
Her memory's fleeting, her gait is weak.
Loved ones long gone are those she seeks.
She's still my mother, whose angry words,
Like a sharpened sword, my soul can hurt.
She's still my mother, who shares our home,
This one we dress, whose hair we comb.
She's still my mother...I know tis true.
And so dear God, I turn to You.
Please give me patience, wisdom, and love,
Til the day that You take her to heaven above.
Let me return...if even through tears,
The love she gave me through all these years.
Though she often thinks that I'm her brother,
I'll love her yet...she's still my mother.
Copyright © 1997 Jerry Ham
Used with permission of the author.
Jerry and his wife are both nurses and they
are a team in taking care of his mother who
who has Alzheimer's. Jerry frequently shares
his poetry on the Alzheimer list, bringing tears
to all our eyes.
Email Jerry at: firstname.lastname@example.org