Take the Picture

When my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I didn’t know that she would eventually stop looking at the camera. Not because she didn’t want her picture taken, but because she had no idea what that meant.

I didn’t know that she would have a distant look in her eyes, that she would no longer look at me, but past me, as if I wasn’t even there.

I didn’t know that she would eventually keep those eyes closed most of the time, even when she isn’t sleeping.

I didn’t know that she would start leaning so far to one side and hanging her head, only looking up ever so slightly once in a while.

I also didn’t know that I would still want to remember this time in our lives. I would still want to document our time together. I would still want to capture our memories in photographs, even if she isn’t looking at the camera, even if you can’t really see her face.

This is the hardest part of our story, but it’s still a part of our story. And I still want to remember it, to remember her.

So, take the picture. Even if it’s not a good one. It’s a moment frozen in time. A memory to last a lifetime.