Mimi’s mother, Helen Hein, spent the last years of her life in a
locked Alzheimer’s ward in a nursing home, a victim of senile dementia.
She remained there until her death in November 1993.
At first, she knew her family and was angry at her placement there, although
our decision was a reluctant one and based on considerations of her safety and
our own. Later, when she had forgotten the recent past, she thought she was a
little girl away at school, and she seemed quite happy to see us when we
visited her and even more when we took her out to a restaurant or just for a
ride.
For Christmas, about midway through her stay there, the staff encouraged the
patients (whom Mimi’s mother called “the inmates”), to write
poetry, and the poems were typed, bound, and presented to each patient’s
family. We’d like to share her poems, the poetry of her senility, when, as
with everything else in her life, her thoughts seemed distilled to their basic
essence.
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