Last night my mom appeared in one of my dreams. She passed away nine years ago – from Alzheimer’s. I haven’t been able to think about her –not really – since. It’s an ugly disease. I’m weak to say so, but my last memories of her are haunting. I’m only speaking my truth. Watching someone you love – your mom for goodness sakes – forget who you are, how the world works, which pronouns to use, how to take care of themself – is devastating. When I’d visit, she’d ask (innocently), “Who are you? Do I know you?” What do you do in ...