In my mother’s room at the memory care center, I dug through the clothes piled on the floor looking for a sweater and scarf. Her closet had plenty of hangers, but Mom, who’d always been tidy, no longer remembered to use them.
“What’s happening, dear?” she asked, fuzzy on my name.
“It’s Christmas Eve,” I reminded her. “We’re going to church. One of your favorite places.”
“We always go to such fun places,” Mom said, smiling vacantly. It was unclear what, if anything, she had understood.
I glanced at my watch. “We need to hurry.” My dad, husband and three kids were meeting us at church for the afternoon service. Even though I wanted to get Mom settled in a pew early, everything, even the simplest tasks, took longer now.…
