It is only in watching my mother now, as she drifts slowly, steadily,and lately it seems more and more swiftly, into that tragic place we call Alzheimer's, that I feel all these levels of regret. That we weren't closer. Was that her or IS that ME? I don't know. My ex-husband, the father of my children, called me cold and lizard like and reptilian, but maybe that's why it didn't work out. Because I never knew real intimacy. He only said those things because I wanted a fair share of the work we'd done together.... but no matter. It's my mother I'm thinking of now. I don't know how to be close to the person who raised me but whom I was never close to. I have memories of the third grade, being in the warm bathtub and trying to let go of the bladder infection. That's the only warm memory I have. The only thing that feels like mother. Why is this? Her mind is going, it's on the verge of gone and I feel such shame. Why didn't I do more, think more, feel more, do more.