i spend my days either holding my breath or grinding my teeth. i hold my breath until my mother calls. letting out a small gasp when i know she is not crying. or paranoid. or delusional. but most days she is all of those things. i try and get a glimpse of my former mother by calling her. usually before 2 pm. by then my father has taken her to the local mall. he cooks her a homemade meal for lunch. she sits under the full spectrum light my husband and i gave her. that’s when i find my mother most calm.
i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.