Going Down the Rabbit Hole With Mom
In the beginning, we were both on solid ground, but soon she started over the edge, ever so subtly, and everyday she slips a little bit more.
When Mom first started down the Hole, I was determined to stay on top and keep her there with me. I held on fiercely to branches and grasses; I had to keep my reality alive.
It was a fierce struggle but it wore me out, holding both of our weights. The farther she slipped, the harder it was to hold on to her, and finally she started to take me with her.
At first, I was oooh-sooo angry. I kept clamoring to get back on top. I saw my world slipping away and I was going deeper into her world. Nothing was making sense.
She spoke of things that didn't exist, told stories that went nowhere, told me things over and over, couldn't hold a thought, made up memories, told of things to come that never will. The Hole had completely become her world and I was now in it with her.
As we continue to fall, my struggle is over. I see her visions as we pass them. There he is, the Mad Hatter, the tea party, the White Rabbit. Eat Me and grow smaller, Eat Me and grow taller. There now is the Red Queen and her Court of Cards. We're playing croquet with storks as mallets and hedgehogs as balls.
Mom is sitting here with Macular Degeneration, half-blind, and slowly losing her mind.
Mom will not awake from this dream as Alice did. But I will. When she is gone, I will wake up on the ground, intact, under the trees and I will shake my head like Alice and realize it was all just a different dream.
So I try to enjoy the fantasy trip as we fall. Perhaps I can have a cup of tea or paint a rose bush along the way.