I Hope

I hope you never lose your sense of wonder, you get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger.

-M. Sanders and T. Sillers

My Dearest Girl,

I hope you never have to call my doctor and ask him to reevaluate his diagnosis.

I hope you never bake with me and I no longer remember my own recipes.

I hope you never take me shopping and see me burst into tears realizing I’m incapable of making a decision.

I hope you never see my handwriting deteriorate until I can no longer put pen to paper.

I hope you never experience becoming a mother amidst losing your own.

I hope you never watch your child become scared and confused while I shout, uncontrollably.

I hope you never have to hear of your friends’ parents babysitting their children while I sit in a nursing home, unable to walk.

I hope you never have to hear me lose my words; never ache to hear my voice.

I hope you never spend your days obsessively reading about the life expectancy for a person with early onset Alzheimer’s.

I hope you never listen to my screams of sorrow.

I hope you never know the heartbreak of me looking through you, no longer knowing who you are.

I hope you never see me lose my light.

I hope you never hear that I have stopped eating, preparing myself for the inevitable.

I hope you are never afraid to go to sleep, petrified that I will die while you rest.

And I hope your own child never has to read these words that I write to you now.

But, most of all, my dear Remington, I hope you forgive me for bringing this devastating disease into your life.

With an immeasurable amount of love and grief,

Mama