Waning Focus

Mom's focus is waning.

On Easter Sunday, we sat in the first two rows at my sister's church, a wide but shallow building with extraordinary stained glass and stone-carved scenes hanging on the walls that those who grew up going to Catholic school would know as the Stations of the Cross. It's a fascinating place. Dad sat in front of the rest of us in the handicapped section and we positioned mom on the end of the pew beside me in the second row.

The priest led us in prayers and readings and songs and gave a boisterous homily about something Easter-related in his gravelly baritone voice. I am certain mom did not hear a word he said. She was watching the people around her and scratching at the tiny stain on her pants leg.

When it came time for communion, the Eucharistic minister approached the bench and before she could get the words "the body of Christ" out of her mouth, mom reached up and nervously grabbed the host out of the woman's hand and then returned to casually gazing around the church.

Now, I have to admit that I was bored out of my mind. But mom's inability to focus in large settings has become dramatically worse in recent months. We have to keep an eye on her and say things like, "Come on mom! Walk this way" to keep her attention so we don't lose her.

Mass finally ended and the priest released us as he made the sign of the cross. Mom was too busy trying to see around a plant on the alter to move her hand in a cross motion. Mom's focus is waning which means that the rest of us must be more vigilant than ever.