The author reflects on the recent death of their 101-year-old mother, Rosemary, whose life is a tapestry of wartime experiences, personal victories, and later struggles with Alzheimer's. Despite her long life, her passing came unexpectedly, even to medical professionals. Rosemary's youth as a Wren during World War II and her journey from music student to a vicar's wife are notable facets of her history. In her final years, the author grapples with regret and the emotional toll of watching a loved one slip away into dementia, while acknowledging the heroic efforts of caregivers.
My mum died last week. She went to bed as usual last Tuesday, the care home staff got her up to help her to the bathroom in the night and then early in the morning heard she was having breathing difficulties.
Rosemary was one of the last of her generation. She served as a Wren in the war and was strafed by a German fighter plane in Portsmouth as she was caught in an air raid while walking home.
It was hard to know which was worse, the brief moments of lucidity when she was clearly terrified of the person she had become, or the longer moments of confusion when her memory failed her.
The staff at the home and my sisters were nothing short of heroic. My mum couldn't have got better care and she insisted on carrying her Guardian around in her bag even though she no longer looked at the paper.
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