“I’ve learned to value failed conversations, missed connections, confusions. What remains is what’s unsaid, what’s underneath. Understanding on another level of being.” – Anna Kamieńska
When we think of missed connections, we often envision fleeting encounters with people who might have become significant in our lives. We romanticize the idea that these individuals could have been friends or even romantic partners if circumstances had aligned differently. For me, however, missed connections evoke memories of my mother and a profound sense of regret that lingers in my heart.
On the surface, my mother may seem an unusual focal point for this reflection. We aren’t estranged; in fact, I see her regularly and we share a loving relationship, despite our differences. Yet, the missed connection I’m referring to occurred about seven years ago after she received her diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer’s disease. This was a moment I can never reclaim.
My close friend, Lisa, lost her father to Alzheimer’s eight years prior, and her experiences resonate deeply with mine. However, she possesses a memory I will always envy. When her father first received his diagnosis, he took her for a walk on the beach, expressing his love, pride, and the inevitability that he would one day forget her name. That heartfelt conversation is my missed connection.
When my mother was diagnosed, we collectively decided to avoid discussing the disease. With both her parents having suffered from Alzheimer’s, the diagnosis felt like a death sentence. Initially, our family was enveloped in a shroud of shame; we kept the diagnosis private to avoid sympathy and, most importantly, to protect Mom from uncomfortable conversations.
In retrospect, I’ve learned that confronting painful issues head-on is far healthier than tiptoeing around them. Yet during that time, I was dealing with my own family tragedies—my husband had just lost his mother in a tragic accident, and my father was grappling with the impending loss of his wife. I was in survival mode, focused on my grieving husband and young children. I prioritized maintaining a sense of normalcy over addressing the elephant in the room.
Weeks turned into months without any mention of my mother’s diagnosis. Even from afar in Colorado, I could hear the fear in her voice and sensed her heartbreak when she had to leave her teaching career. We tried to make the most of our time together, avoiding the painful truth. Then, one day, she could no longer recall my name. It was the moment my friend Lisa had so dreadfully anticipated with her father. While I always knew my mother loved and was proud of me, we never had that crucial conversation. Now, our exchanges mostly consist of commands: “Eat this.” “Let’s go here.” It’s communication, but it lacks the depth we missed.
I strive not to dwell on this lost opportunity but rather to view it as a lesson imparted by my mother. “Seize the moment, Sarah. Don’t shy away from the pain; approach it with an open heart.” We aimed to shield her from hurt, yet hindsight reveals the importance of those conversations. Most who know me would agree I live my life openly, unafraid to embrace my beautiful mess.
In Japanese culture, there is an art form called Kintsukuroi, which involves mending broken pottery with gold. This process transforms imperfection into beauty, enhancing its value. Similarly, I can fill the cracks of regret and grief in my life with love and wisdom gained through experience. It may be messy and awkward, but it’s vital to express your feelings, fears, and regrets. Always choose to have the talk.
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In summary, my mother’s battle with Alzheimer’s has taught me invaluable lessons about the importance of communication and seizing moments before they slip away. Embrace those difficult conversations, for they can turn missed connections into lasting connections.