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Notes on my mother, who has Alzheimer's disease

I miss my mother. I will never not miss my mother. I will go months or perhaps—though I cannot imagine this now—years without crying for her and then one day I will cut my finger on a knife in the kitchen, and I may suddenly collapse into disproportionate tears that will be some small, childlike part of my mind echoing back a long ago feeling of a mother’s comforting kiss. I will have children of my own and I will learn that my heart is capable of much more, so much more love and pain and vulnerability than even this experience has taught me. If I have learned one thing from my mother’s disease, it is that the heart has no limit to what it can feel. There is always a deeper love, and always a truer pain. And when I see my mother’s eyes light up at the sight of a simple flower or a chocolate chip cookie, I know that there is always a purer joy as well.

Unlike our minds, unlike our memories, our hearts are infinite.

Rebecca Emily Darling lives in Los Angeles with the ghost of Mary Pickford and two pinstriped cats. In her day life she runs the fancy-pants vintage clothing shop Rococo Vintage on Etsy and teaches/wears leg warmers at Bar Method Los Angeles. In her nightlife she stays home and writes and draws and plays dress up and make believe and basically anything else mature adults do. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram.

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