by Claire Poirier
My mum was one of my best friends. Every morning she would walk into my room, wake me up and I would sit on her lap as she brushed my hair. Then at night, she would read me a story or we would chat about our days, and on many occasions she would fall asleep right next to me in my bed. Jane and I shared one of the most precious bonds of my childhood; we were so similar, which is why we got along so well.
When I was in grade nine, we got the life changing news. She was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. At that time we all knew the end result as my grandfather passed alway peacefully, just two years prior. We lived in denial for a couple years, hoping it was menopause that was getting the best of her, but she knew deep down that wasn’t it. I spent that entire summer with her up at my cottage, she was extremely depressed, and there was nothing I could do. Looking back I wish I put my selfish adolescence ways behind me and talked to her more during the time that she was still lucid.