Going home is a memory not a reality.

For me it's when all my family members were alive ... when I had a good job where I was valued ... when I was happy. It was a place, an activity ... a memory.

When we ask or think about going home unfortunately what we want to go home to is no longer there.

So when a family member asks to go home they want to go home to a memory we can't provide.

I know ... I understand ... I have a good life now but I still want to go home too.

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Thank you everybody. Thats why i wrote that since we all want to do the best for our loved ones but usually cant since we dont have the necessary capabilities.

When we’re younger we dont usually understand that and cant provide what we think our loved ones want. And they cant tell us.

As i said i have a good life but my peace of mind and enjoyment is not now what it used to be. Thats what i wante to verbalize now what i may not be able to in the future and didnt understand in the past.

"Going home is a memory not a reality". How very well put. I will keep that in mind as my mother's illness progresses. My mom had my dad dig up pictures of her parents who died when she was 10 years old. She was raised by extended family, but now pictures from 1945 are everywhere. I know she is looking to go home to when she was their little girl. She talks about it a lot. Mom and dad planned to be buried in a lovely military cemetery, but she recently got dad to agree to be buried instead in a spare plot next to her parents. There's only one plot, and I know she's not even thinking about my dad. (Kinda makes me laugh, but it's not funny.) Anyway, I personally am blessed to have had many lovely "homes" when growing up in the 70's, and even now with my studly and darling husband.

A beautiful post from you, BetsySue, and a beautiful post from Midkid58.

I too used to have sweet memories of my home town, but after leaving my home in another state to be Mom's live-in caregiver until she died last year (I was there 14 months) and being tortured by Twisted Sisters whom I'll never speak to again, even those sweet memories have vanished.

My current mountain village is my new hometown and I'm very happy with my new "home" and looking ahead.


What a sweet way of thinking, a little sad, but sweet.

I also want to "go home" sometimes, to when I felt better, life seemed more fulfilling and I felt of more use to people. It's not a place, it's a feeling.

We've all created our "homes" in our minds. I know my mother has memories she clings to that are patently false--things just did not happen the way she remembers, but it calms her to talk about it, so no problem, really.

We also cannot live in memories, so I guess we should strive to make today be a place we want to be.

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