When a person slowly loses

his or her memory

to the disease called Alzheimer’s,

it is like a race against time

for the loved ones and friends

who surround him or her.

Will this be the day

that this person turns

to spouse or sibling or child,

and asks that heart-breaking question,

“Who did you say you are again?”

Or will this simply be the day,

that you have the blessed opportunity

to answer a question

with patience and forbearance

that you had just answered

a few short minutes previous?

I am so grateful

that I still have my mother,

that she clearly knows who I am,

that I can share a hug, a kiss,

a meal, and a conversation.

I can cheer on her good days

and quietly grieve the bad.

I pray that she will never reach

the point her father did

when he turned to his only son

and said, “I have a son named Sam.”

Had I been Sam Junior,

I think I would have had

to fight back tears.

I would have wanted to beg,

“Please remember me.

I’m your son. I’m Sam.

Don’t you recall me, Dad?

How can you forget me, Dad?

It’s not fair Dad. It’s just not fair.”

I can cling to the hope

that just because her father

forgot his own family,

it does not dictate

that she must suffer the same fate.

Every disease reacts differently

on each individual.

In the meantime,

I thank you, God,

that I still have a Mom,

who knows me for me.

Should that day ever come,

when that is not the case,

well, I pray that God

will give me the strength,

to face that should it actually transpire.

In the meantime,

why borrow trouble?

Still yet, I feel like

it is truly a race against time.

Only time will tell,

who or what will win.