When we think about missed connections, we often visualize fleeting encounters with people who could have been significant in our lives. We romanticize the idea that these brief interactions might have blossomed into friendships or even love if only circumstances were different. However, for me, missed connections evoke a deeper, more poignant memory involving my mother that haunts my heart.
At first glance, it may seem unusual to focus on my mother, as we share a close relationship and are certainly not estranged. Yet, the missed connection I’m referring to took place about seven years ago, shortly after she received her diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s disease. It was a moment I now realize was a precious opportunity that slipped through my fingers.
My dear friend, Bella, experienced a similar situation when she lost her father to Alzheimer’s eight years ago. Our stories intertwine in many ways, and it’s comforting to have someone who understands the complexities of this journey. Bella has a memory that I will never possess. She recalls a walk on the beach with her father right after his diagnosis, a time when he still had clarity. During that walk, he expressed his love and pride for her, forewarning her of the day when he might forget her name but assuring her that she would always remain in his heart. This heartfelt conversation is my missed connection.
When my mother was diagnosed, we decided not to address the reality of Alzheimer’s within our family. Both of her parents had suffered from it, and we understood the implications all too well. Initially, there was a sense of shame surrounding the diagnosis, and we chose to keep it secret. We didn’t want to elicit sympathy, nor did we want to expose Mom to potentially distressing conversations.
At that time, I was also grappling with my own grief. My husband had recently lost his mom in a tragic accident, and my father was dealing with the prospect of losing his beloved wife. I found myself in a role of damage control, focusing on my grieving family while putting on a brave face. Days turned into weeks and then months, during which I avoided discussing my mother’s diagnosis. Instead, we pretended everything was fine.
Living in Denver, I communicated with her through texts and phone calls, but I could hear the fear in her voice and sensed her sadness when she had to leave her teaching career. Our family tried to cherish every moment, avoiding the elephant in the room. Then one day, the inevitable happened: my mother no longer remembered my name. It was the moment Bella had foretold about her own father. I knew she loved me; she had told me countless times before, but we never had that important conversation.
Now, most of my interactions with Mom revolve around the mundane: “Eat this.” “Let’s go to the bathroom.” While we may still “talk,” those words are far from what I wish we could share. We missed that connection.
Reflecting on this experience, I try not to dwell on what could have been. Instead, I view it as a lesson from my mother: “Embrace the moment, Laura. Don’t shy away from the pain; face it with an open heart.” Although we believed we were protecting her, hindsight reveals that being open about our struggles would have been wiser. Those who know me would agree that I strive to live authentically, unafraid to embrace the beautiful messiness of life.
In many cultures, like Kintsukuroi in Japan, broken pottery is repaired with gold, transforming imperfections into beauty. I carry significant scars of regret and grief, but I aim to fill those cracks with love and the wisdom gained from my experiences. It may be messy, it may be awkward, but I urge you to speak your truth—share your love, fears, regrets, and pain. Always choose to have that conversation.
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In summary, missed connections can offer profound lessons about the importance of open communication. My mother’s Alzheimer’s journey taught me to seize every moment and not shy away from difficult conversations. Embrace the messiness of life and always strive to connect on a deeper level.