Mom had a rare brain disorder called PPA, and she was taken too soon for me. She died four years ago today. I don’t know how to feel about this day, but I want to somehow honor her. She was the most beautiful person (inside and out) that I have ever known. She radiated joy and taught me how to …
For my mother, who taught me how to love. Mom had PPA, a rare brain disorder for which there is no cure. It caused her to slowly lose her ability to recall the names of well, most everything eventually. One important distinction between PPA and other memory conditions like Alzheimer’s was that only very rarely and only inside the last …
Nick Hennen looks back to a May, 2, 2015, conversation he had with his Mom shortly before she died. It was a little tough to understand her tonight. I decided to partially transcribe the less coherent parts as well to give me a better window into the slipping in and out of what I suppose we’d all agree is real. …
I grew up Catholic, and Good Friday meant “Stations of the Cross.” Mass and a somber day. I always wondered as a kid why it was often dark and rainy. Did God know? One thing you never, ever say, “Happy Good Friday,” on this day, ever. Today we feel gratitude. Today we remember. It’s also true that my mother died …
Despite how this looks, and I suppose partially because of it, North Dakota is a beautiful place. I sometimes miss the wide openness and wildness of a good blizzard. The whole world shuts down and you can crawl under the covers with a good book for hours unnoticed. Stopping to listen to the wild wind. Appreciating the warmth of your …
My first memory was playing in the dirt with a hand trowel just inside a wooded area near my home. I was digging deeply into the tan soil, pulling up chunks to later break down in search of “gold” — all of the good stuff was going into my dump truck, which was nearby. I was really into the moment. …
Like birth, I think the hour of our death is very meaningful, whether our earthly minds allow us to solve the puzzle or not. It is drenched in meaning, here and also somewhere else. The year, month, day, hour and second — it is already written for each of us. I think I’m lucky in that I can see the light of …
I didn’t cry when I first saw her but I wanted to. I held it in for a bit in an effort to stay sober and soak in everything. Changes. Changes like the time I came back from living in Grand Forks for a few years to Fargo and I saw the back of my dad’s head sitting in the …
It’s much easier to stuff lately. And it’s not like I don’t have the energy to feel, it’s more like I’m making the conscious choice to avoid feeling much of anything that relates to the distance between us. Like wearing a life jacket in a rainstorm, it makes my inner child think I’m protected. Something new has started where I …
When it came to phone conversations with mom, I was always the one saying goodbye. This perhaps wasn’t the case as a child, but this is what I most remember. “Well, I’ll let you go,” and so on — so much so it just became a habit. After she became sick, it continued (despite the guilt) because I felt, I …
So, over the weekend, my brother, Chris, was visiting mom and set up a call for me. This seems to be the best way to reach her these days. I wish I could articulate just how much this change affects me, but I can’t seem to find the words. A lot of tears lately. A lot of just missing her, …
I think it’s creepy how unavailable actual human help has become. For the average person, it’s a dig to find a way to get in contact with anyone inside the most famous internet companies. Imagine how powerful Twitter would be if an actual human answered a help desk phone? Or your direct emails? Or dms? I realize reply emails, even …
I started to cry as I slowly peeled away the restrictive layer of clothing that is my binder, realizing this was the last day I would ever have to wear it again. What a strange mix of elation and contemplation. I instantly recalled all the times I came home from something, immediately stripping away and relishing in the relief of …
Preface to reader: I originally planned to my make my second post one of the first ones I had made detailing my talks with my mom, who has primary progressive aphasia — a language disorder that involves changes in the ability to speak, read, write and understand what others are saying — and posts about them on social media. I found, …
Preface: My mother has a rare brain disorder called primary progressive aphasia (PPA) is a language disorder that involves changes in the ability to speak, read, write and understand what others are saying. It is often associated with memory loss and dementia, and though mom has only rarely not known who I was for a short time, she does have …
As a gay American living in what is inarguably one of the most retrograde states in the union, every day can prove to be a challenge. Traveling through my shoes, you’d feel a passage that can scrape, sometimes, against every living fiber that makes up who I am as a mother, a daughter, a sister, a human being, and most …