Nina

Dedicated to my tell it like it is mother n’ law, Nina, who showed me what it is to be a ‘boy mom.’ 

These are snippets from my journals. Alzheimer’s is cruel and ugly. Nina was fierce and brave. I miss her. 

Candace Lynn McCarthy (January 20, 1947- May 28, 2021)

May 24, 2021, The Call

‘I got the call,’ he tells me, and I know exactly what the words mean. We look out the window, and a rainbow lights up the sky, ‘she’s ready,’ he says.  

The dream pops into my head. I turn to Kelly, ‘Crazy, I just had that dream where,’ he finishes, ‘she shows up at our door unexpectedly, grinning and twirling her hair. Yes! Nina is okay; she’s happy, babe.  

1997- Meeting Nina

He speaks of her with such awe, a mama’s boy, no doubt. I am a nervous wreck. We have only been an item for a couple of months, but I like him, which means I want her to like me. He senses my nerves and takes my hand, ‘She will love you. Her bark is loud, but trust me, she’s a softy.’ His words settle me. 

She peppers me with questions completing the interrogation with, ‘What are your intentions? Are they honorable?’ Hmmm, ‘think so’ is all I can muster; My answer does not fair well. She twirls her hair, and directs her full attention to Kel. So much for impressing her; I think she might hate me. The evening is a bust.

Nina- A Mother’s Intuition 

She had an inkling that he had fallen in love; a mother knows things. Meeting me and witnessing how we looked at each other confirmed her speculations. 

Her life had not been easy. Everything changed with Kelly; he gave her purpose and meaning. Unlike her childhood, Kelly would know love and feel wanted. For years, it was just the two of them. They were a strong duo, figuring out life, stumbling, and surviving.

I scared her because my culture, background, and choice of words were so vastly different from what she knew. I was a twist cone dipped in colored sprinkles to her vanilla. 

2005- Thing 2

Their matching hairdo is endearing despite the Chemotherapy. Nina holds Thing 2, staring intensely into his eyes. Thing 2 is the spitting image of Kelly as a baby, and Nina eats it up. The three share the same eyes, narrow in shape and hazel in color. She gets lost for a moment; the past and present get blurred. 

Memories of her yesterday’s come flooding back. Thing 2 smiles, and you can see the amazement in her eyes. A link only a grandparent can fully grasp. For so long, all sentences began and ended with Kelly, but now her sentences start with Thing One and end with Thing Two. 

Looking Back

The memory lapse was concealed and timed perfectly with Chemotherapy. It started with forgetfulness, grasping for a word to complete a sentence, long pauses, and trying to remember why she walked into the room. Enough to notice but not to set off any alarms. Of course, we missed it; her battle with breast cancer distracted us.

2016 Dressing Room

I leave her in the dressing room; she’s been swimming in her wardrobe for too long. Browsing nearby, I hear a woman gasp and look up; Nina stands for all to see, exposed, wearing a bra that does not fit, with her pants rolled up at the waist. She is dazed, confused, and skinnier than I could have imagined. She is twirling her hair. I drop everything and gently approach her. Careful not to startle her, I put my hands on her back, softly speaking, ‘I got you, Nina; you are safe,” and walk her back to the dressing room.

2000- The Wedding

She has grown to love me—not full-throttle, yet one of mutual admiration and respect that I happily receive. She loves him big, which is enough for me. 

She beams with pride and dances the night away, shaking her hips like Shakira to the Gypsy Kings and Enrique Iglesias. She isn’t so vanilla after all. The truth is, we are both unapologetic about our devotion to family and happen to love the same man. We have ground to build on.

2018 

We visit with a hefty dose of optimism and wishes for clarity. Nina is nervous. Our faces are familiar, but she doesn’t know our names. We know the drill. Interact, but don’t ask her questions, speak to her, and share stories. We play dominoes, her version; we let her win. This keeps her fidgety body and hands occupied. Frustration and anger creep in; they always do. My heart breaks; she doesn’t understand or control it. Moments of clarity never come. 

2003- Thing 1 

February 4, 2003, the day I placed Thing 1 in her arms, is when Nina came to love me fully. 

She cradled him in her arms. ‘ Take lots of pictures, capture everything; if not, you will forget. It doesn’t seem possible, but you will; these small moments will vanish unless you seize them,’ she told me. 

January 2019

Kelly visits regularly, and each time is increasingly more difficult. But his love is greater than the uncomfortable feeling of her decline.

She is confused. She walks around scared, nervously twirling her hair, and asks Kelly, ‘Who is that man in the kitchen? Why is he here? The man is her husband of thirty-six years, Jack. 

Kelly chooses his words carefully and puts his arm around her; you are safe. She relaxes and eases with his voice; the unbreakable bond between mother and son is all that remains.

November 2019

She is an empty shell. The nurses are a blessing and care for Nina in ways Jack can’t, which has allowed lag for difficult decisions. Time has run out; she is declining and requires around-the-clock supervision. 

Jack is devoted and promises to care for her till death do us part in their home. The cruelty of the disease forces him to break his word to the love of his life. He is crushed and ridden with guilt. Nina moves to a memory care facility. 

May 24, 2021- Kelly

The phone rings. ‘I’ll book the first flight, Dad.’ It is time; his gut tells him so, and the rainbow confirms it.

May 25, 2021 

Kelly is at her bedside. She wasn’t supposed to make it through the night, but that’s not surprising; Nina held on, a last attempt to mend broken relationships. Nina is still fiercely loving her peeps.

May 27, 2021

She is peaceful. She is still, and her eyes remain closed. Her hands are swollen. Oxygen levels drop, and organs shut down.

May 28, 2021 

Kel holds her hand, gently twirls her hair, leans over to kiss her, and whispers, it’s okay, mama, you are safe. She takes her last breath, surrounded by love.

Kel

In the end, Alzheimer’s prevailed by painstakingly wiping Nina’s memories one by one and ultimately paying with her life. So, for Kelly, living boldly and keeping her memory alive is easy. He remembers for both of them her wicked left-handed hook in bowling and their dates at Skyway drive-in. Her intensity at his hockey games, their shared love for music, her infectious laugh, and so much more. Indeed, they were the best to each other, a dynamic duo. 

Mic

To love and to be loved. I get a lump in my throat, remembering all she was, her personality’s bigness, and how fiercely she loved. The tears flow easily; I don’t fight them; I honor my sadness; I love her. And through the tears, I smile, like a rainbow after a storm for a life well-lived. 

Xo-Mic

PS. By the way, Nina, I intend to love him as much as you did.