We talked every day for years

Of books and food we enjoyed

Of places on our bucket list

Of projects in the pipes

Of conferences we were preparing for

When things began to change

 

You needed me in ways you didn’t before

Our roles transformed minutely –

The gradual shifting of sand

Times of easy friendship turned

From friends and colleagues

To I thought was you’re being lazy

Wanting a constant assistant

 

At first, it was help on your computer

A simple fix or data entry question

But it was how to spell a word –

You’d point to an object

Ask how to spell it

I would have to write it for you

 

Days you would forget to eat

You’d conduct open door interviews

So I could help out with your notes

 

It was the day you forgot

How to use the microwave

I began to suspect

Some misfiring, or slippage

Of your brain, to your essence

 

I could visualize the loss in your voice

Those words dropped

Between your brain and your lips –

Those lips that now tremble in panic

When you look at me and no name

Springs to your eroding mind

 

My prior irritation wells inside me

Filling me with guilt at my impatience

My lack of intuition to notice your failings

 

‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder’

They say –

But can the heart grow fonder when

The brain doesn’t know the heart exists?

Is there still a corner of your mind

Crying with fear and loss?

 

I know you don’t know

My name or even my face

But do you remember your own?

Is the face you look at every morning

One you can recall?

Do you carry a memory of you?

Of your husband and sons?

Of what your life’s passions were?

Do you miss your essence

What made you you

As the illness eats away at it?

 

I know for me, your erosion

Has wounded my spirit –

Chipped away at my rose-colored glasses

At my Pollyanna existence

It is no longer buoyant –

Its weight bears down on me

Because I fear the same could happen

To me – and I will lose my essence

 

                                                           photo by me!

7 thoughts on “Erosion of the Mind”

  2. Jae I Pak's avatar

    Hi Mary Beth: Beautiful piece! My parents are octogenarians and I sometimes get sad when I noticed them change at my monthly visit. I tell myself that I need to be brave and accept the course of life. That we need to celebrate life – whatever it maybe, short, long, wealthy, poor, fit or ailing… for life is precious.

    Your piece gives a moment to reflect and find a certain beauty at a stage in life. No shame and no tragedy. simple respect for life.
    Thanks, Jae

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Jae I Pak's avatar

    Hi;
    The other day, I happened to peruse Mary Beth’s Erosion of the Mind and thought I would leave my comment. Wrote a few lines about her writing and on my personal experience with my octogenarian parents. But when I returned to the blog next day, I do not see my comment. Maybe it went to wrong site? My question – how do you leave a comment on a piece?
    Thanks,
    Jae

    Like

    • mbbretzlauf's avatar

      Hi Jae,
      Thanks for the heads up! Sure enough, I had several comments. I wrote this because of a woman at work is no longer her. She stopped working about a year ago. It was fast, yet gradual – if that makes sense. My other issue is that my father has Parkinson’s and had a stroke last year. He needs to be in a place where he can get the help he needs. My stepmother has done all she can. Last month I had a siblings meeting to discuss it. Last week, my sister, one of my brothers and myself went to see them to tell them he needed to in a place that is safer for him. He is past the assisted stage and nursing home is required. He is being stubborn, but we planted the seed.

      Like

  4. Pleasant Street's avatar

    I had to come back to read this one again. It touched me greatly. I hope writing about your friend and your father gives you comfort. I have similar fears.
    I love the thought of feeling buoyant, hard to do when daily life gets heavier.

    Like

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