Twice now in the space of a few weeks, we’ve been handed a pair of Mom’s summer pants with a big rip on the left hand side. The tear is...

“We are all capable of dancing,” Mom says as we swing round the room. She’s talking to the other residents who are mostly sitting in...

I am writing to you from sunny Kiryat Atta, home to my son and daughter-in-law, and of course, our sweet 8-month-old grandson Roi. My...

When Mom and I took a short walk to the grocery store and back, she was hesitant about where we were walking. She literally recognized...

When Mom is angry, there is no reasoning with her: Alzheimer’s has robbed her of that intellectual function. Come the late afternoon,...

Mom’s attention fluctuates greatly. We are walking outside noticing the red hibiscus when she veers off course and tells me she’s looking...

Mom is running a fever and has a cold. Pretty common in winter. In fact, I’m nursing a bad cold, too. It seems that not even the flu...

How can I even describe the surreal world my mother inhabits? It’s like watching an artist paint an inexplicable painting yet still be...