My heart is breaking into a thousand pieces and yet mostly, I just register fatigue, irritability, and impatience. The irritability and impatience is absorbed, magnified and then thrown into my face in the form of an irrescible four year old! I have brought both girls with me on the 21 hour journey from Los Angeles to Israel to visit my mother who was diagnosed with ALS in May 2010 (ontop of the Parkinson's Disease Diagnosis from 2002!). My mother has no wind in her vocals and any sound coming out is 98% unrecognizable so she has resorted to writing notes - comments/instructions on pieces of paper as the most efficient form of communication. The ALS has rendered the lower part of her body - immobile/unresponsive and yet what kills me like a sharp stabbing knife - over and over again in the chest is watching her attempt to eat - her arms and hands are still mobile so she can slowly lift the utensil to her mouth - however what is cute on a 1 year old is heart-wrenching on an elderly (not so elderly 64!) parent - the food drops and stains and thoroughly wets her shirt. The mouth has lost control and the saliva escapes in drool - so the hand perpetually is holding a tissue to attempt to assuage the fluids. I have to turn away - It is too much to see the woman who bore me, raised me, comforted me, cared for me, my "Supermom" - is in diapers and drooling.
    Her mind is there (most of the time) and she writes words of encouragement and continues to advance the cause of the optimist - "Positivity is my trademark" - she holds on to the possibility of joining a research study with stem cells which will get her walking in 6 months because she is motivated. And so - who am I then - the pessimist? The realist? I kick myself for not being able to immerse myself in the fantasy - it surely is a better mindset than the one I am in.
   The silver lining - and there always is one - is that I trust that everything is happening for a reason. That the lessons from this hardship can only make me stronger and better as a person. Right? Seeing my heartbreak reflected in my 9 year old's eyes - it isn't voiced - I just see how she looks at the lady that was her Grandma/Savta - giving her piggyback rides, taking her to the park, reading to her and putting her to bed everynight for the first 5 years of her life...She understands how I feel. So I turn to my 4 year old for the silver lining - the light in this dark tunnel - to show me the way.
   Ellah thinks the note writing is great! Though she cannot write or read yet save her name - she writes Savta notes. Though Savta has no wind to voice her thoughts - she has a microphone (a Britney Spears popstar headpiece that is supposed to help with her vocalizations) - and Ellah commandeers it to perform concerts - laying on Savta's hospital bed and enjoying Savta's undivided attention - she sings with the microphone and props a pillow against the bed rails - hides behind it and performs a puppetshow with her hand puppets. She is the lesson - of being in the Present - of Acceptance - of Being in the Now - and Enjoying Life. She holds no memory of the Healthy Savta - save for the verbal mythology of the older sister. But she is here, now, in acceptance.
    Yesturday - My mom checked out - maybe for 36 minutes - but she did not smile, stared vacantly at Ellah, at me - like we were strangers, with mouth ajar in an "O" she looked around from her armchair - not responding to conversation, not responding to questions. It was scary. Within an hour - she was back - with no recollection of the "blackout" - but rather than be amazed at the mystery of the human body and brain - it put me in a tail spin.
   So as the song goes - "What becomes of the broken hearted?" - I am open to suggestions...