October 26, 2025
Jill and I recently had dinner with two old friends — well, one of them is old (just kidding, Kevin!). For three decades now, our conversations have centered on our kids — their successes and struggles. But this time, the focus was on our parents. I would say that our parents are one of the hottest topics in all of my conversations with friends. One of our dinner realizations was that our parents did not deal as much with aging parents, because, well, because their parents most often died well before life’s cruelty imposed long-term limitations on them. In my case, three of my four grandparents died in their early 70s. So taking care of our parents is one of the few things that we did not learn by watching our own parents.
And now, our generation is learning by doing.
I’m blessed to have both of my parents still alive – my dad is 86 and my mom is 84. Though he has a variety of physical maladies, my father is still on fire intellectually. He’s reading like a madman, and ready to discuss a variety of books. I look forward to every conversation with him. He’s always ready to commend or criticize my most recent blog post, and I love it all. He has been a spectacular father to all of us, and if you asked all of us today, we would shout to the world that his presence, support, advice, and love continue to make us better and happier. He has a fantastic attitude, but he definitely believes in the quote often attributed to Bette Davis, “Old age ain’t no place for sissies.”
No, it’s not. I’m only 63, and the t-shirt that has been tempting me to purchase it simply reads, “Everything Hurts.” My dad listens to me complain and tells me, “It does not get better with age.” Maybe in a decade or two I’ll get a shirt that says, “Everything Hurts – Even More Than It Used To.”
But my mom, that’s a different story.
I wrote about her battle with dementia almost exactly two years ago. It was just five years ago when we really started getting worried. That’s when the occasional memory lapse turned into something that crossed the line from forgetfulness to something more serious.
Fast forward two years from my 2023 post.
I spent time with my mom several times during my most recent visit to Little Rock two weeks ago. There was nothing surprising about my visit, as I talk with my siblings often, but damn, it was still hard to see and experience. Here are a few observations.
My mom was always trim. Even though she didn’t exercise, she somehow always appeared to be in good physical condition. Why didn’t I get that gene? But now, she is truly a wisp of a human being. There’s not much meat on those bones. She barely has the strength to lift her head off of the back of her chair. She needs others to help her get in or out of bed or any chair. She spends her waking hours in a comfortable chair, seemingly unbothered by her frailty.
Her memory is almost all gone. She does not recognize her children any more. When she sees my sister Martha, who visits Mom more than any of us, she sometimes thinks that Martha is her mother. We think she has dreams of various portions of her life, and when she wakes up, she may think that she’s supposed to get ready for high school, or she could be waking up thinking she’s in another decade. Then the memory of the dream fades, and it’s just living in the moment. I think she believes me when I tell her that I’m her oldest son, and she feels something when I hold her hand and talk with her, but I don’t think the memory connects to anything solid. When she has a thought that she wants to share, she starts to speak it, then forgets what she was going to say, then she forgets that she even wanted to say anything.
Some good news – she has absolutely no anxiety. And believe me – Mom was always anxious about something. A decision (big or small) that needed to be made; trying to remember whether or not she turned off the stove; how to best help her children when they were going through a difficult time; what color of floor or wallpaper to get in the new remodel; and so much more. I remember her literally wringing her hands with worry so much of the time. And now, it all seems gone. She seems to accept where she is, she’s appreciative of her visitors and all the help that she gets, and she just seems . . . content.
I was talking about Mom with my awesome siblings this week. One of us said that the way she’s living now is a terrible way to end a spectacular life. We all agree. As I’ve wrestled with how much of her is still ‘here,’ I keep coming back to some questions I’ve never really asked before.
Reading Michael Singer’s The Untethered Soul has made me think about who we truly are. If we take away our reactions to the outside world, our emotions, our thoughts, and in my mom’s case, our memories, who are we? At her core, like all of us, my mom is the same person that she was at age 4, 14, 24, 44, 64, and now 84. Singer writes, “So now, if I ask you, “Who are you?” you answer, “I am the one who sees. From back in here somewhere, I look out, and I am aware of the events, thoughts, and emotions that pass before me.”
So who is that person in my mom’s case? Who is that person who sees from her current and quite limited vantage point? Without her memories – she is still kind, caring, and full of wonder. When she is not too tired, she enjoys hearing the stories her kids tell. The piano that she used to play with so much passion and beauty is long silent now, but when a Chopin melody drifts through her room, something in her still listens. She’s still quick to smile, and wants to laugh with us when we are laughing. Those are elements of who she has been her entire life, and it’s still evident today.
So I do believe that she’s still there, but damn, I miss the Mom I remember – the mom who guided me through all of my years and supported me every step of the way. The mom who taught me to cook and just 7 years ago was helping me with Thanksgiving dinner. The mom who loved her beautiful back yard and got so mad whenever squirrels would steal food from the bird feeders. The mom who made every child and grandchild feel loved and special.
I don’t have any answers. I hope that AI and modern medicine figure out how to protect my generation from this insidious disease. My heart goes out to the millions of people who are doing their best to support loved ones going through memory loss. I do my best to be grateful for every awake and aware moment that I have with loved ones, for every moment in this beautiful world, and for every opportunity to use a body and mind that allow me to have incredible experiences.
Two years ago, I wrote from heartbreak. Today, I still feel that sense of loss, but I’m striving to find peace and acceptance. Not because the disease is kinder, but because I’m doing the best I can to see my mom in spite of all she has lost. In my mom’s final years, I wish her peace and comfort — and I hope that somewhere deep inside, she knows that her love has left a beautiful legacy.
Post #140 on www.drmdmatthews.com
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NOTES
You can find my November 11, 2023 post – the first one on my mom’s battle with dementia, here.
We feel very fortunate that Mom is living in a wonderful caring environment. It’s called House of Three, and there are several throughout Arkansas. They take up to three residents at a time, and they provide round the clock care, with meals, movement, hygiene, and basic medical assistance. They can call 911 if needed. They do their best to make sure residents don’t fall and that they take the medicines they are prescribed. Medicare services come to the house. And we feel that the good people who work there truly love our mom and the other residents.
Notes on the picture collage above, clockwise, starting from the top left:
- Probably 1965 – My mom with me (right) and Pat (left).
- 1996 or 97 – Mom with Ryan and Sean
- 2006 – Mom with Ryan and Dawson in Tucson
- 2023 – Mom with Pat, Martha, and me
- 2022 – Mom and me
- 2016 – Mom with Ryan at Law School Graduation
Mike Matthews 
RoseAnn Hansen 
Wayne F Reel 
Sheree Escoto 
BILL FOURNELL 
Bill Bloomfield 
Sherry 
Bill Sampson 
Mitchell Ozawa 
Pam 
Kevin McCarthy 
Bill McGarvey 
Maggie 
Larry Peacock 
Erika White 
Brad Schmidt 
Mikke Pierson 
Kevin Skelly 
Harriett Janetos 
mark massey 
Susan Scheding 
Merlin
Thank You for sharing this heartfelt story.