The Most

I recently lost my mother due to an accident suffered in her memory care home, where she resided due to her Parkinson’s Disease related dementia. The beginning of her end was a fall and subsequent brain bleed which ultimately stole her speech, remaining cognitive abilities and movement. Myra Browne Lewis Daniel, was a complex introvert, raised by a line of namesake extroverts from the deep South. Momma was fiercely loyal to her heritage yet painfully protective of her independence. Her roots shaped her personality and her mothering instincts.

Momma was just so complicated. Her quirkiness and anxieties seemed to warrant protection, yet somehow she always seemed like the most indomitable presence in the room.Just Say Momma is my space to reflect on my relationship with my mother and the changes we endured during her slip into dementia. When I say “Momma,” I conjure up an image of an impenetrable force, a beautiful puzzle, a belly laugh, a fragile bird. So many past sentences I uttered beginning with “Momma” were uttered in frustration. Now, just saying “Momma” makes me long for another chance. When I was little, I’d hear “JUST SAY MOMMA!” in a frantic and urgent tone, instigated by a cough which sent Momma into a panic that my little sister or I was choking and in distress. I hear Momma in my own voice when I instinctually offer up “Just Say Momma!” in response to a cough at snack time from one of the three year olds in my charge at preschool.

I’m unequivocally not the only daughter that struggled with the most mother/daughter issues. I do not claim that honor. I simply aim to reflect upon my relationship with my mother and how it changed as she slipped into dementia. How my mother was just “the most”, the most frustrating, the most complex, the most fascinating, the most misunderstood, the most fragile. Now, I am able to look back on my loss. She was the most. She is a part of me. Each day I have a new memory, or goal, or just feeling. Each time I reflect, I Just Say Momma.