There is no line of demarcation
As the stages may suggest.
Just a quiet undulation
Watching symptoms manifest.
From one day to another,
Bewilderment at first.
Forgetfulness seems normal.
All the questions unrehearsed.
Symptoms appear and disappear
In ways that seem unreal.
'Til suddenly they're so severe
That nothing can conceal.
I call this "Crossing Over"
from one stage to the next.
Three steps forward, five steps back
Not found in any text.
And on this tragic journey
My mother slowly travels,
As she gropes for stolen memories
Before her life unravels.
"Your a wonderful daughter" one day,
"Who are you?" another.
Some days I'm her sister,
Others, I'm her mother.
Eventually I'll be an unknown
Stranger who still loves her,
Beyond the day that she is gone,
Her final Crossing Over.
© Pam Pomo 11/10/01
