Jackie Martin showing off her St. Patty's Day garb. My dad called her his Wild Irish Rose.

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Looking back, there were so many signs that mom was struggling, beyond the normal signs of aging. But we missed so many of them because she was already well into her 80's, and well, she was our mom. Mom, the CEO of the family. Mom, the General of the neighborhood. Mom, the heart, soul and engine that drove the train. But that last Thanksgiving, a few months before the end of a long winter that ended with us suddenly uprooting my parents entire world to move Mom into a memory care unit and Dad into independent living nearby, Mom suddenly stood up, clenching her teeth in anguish, and pronounced, "I feel like I'm standing in a pit! A deep, dark pit!"

A lifetime of always being the sharpest one in the room, but now her greatest tool - other than her huge Irish heart in her diminutive 5ft tall body - was letting her down. She was stuck. And even with family all around telling her she was going to be okay, she just knew something wasn't right. And never really would be again.

Dad did his best to visit regularly, maintain some sense of normalcy, keep up with the staff regarding Mom's care, celebrate birthdays and holidays, and drive Mom into town for outings whenever he could, usually to the local Dollar Store. His heart was breaking a little every day, but he never gave up on Mom. His Wild Irish Rose.

Dad passed away at the beginning of the pandemic. Almost a full year later, during a time of intense isolation and confusion, Mom followed.

While Alzheimer's is a brain disease, it hits hardest at the heart. You can feel the damage down to your very core, where we hold and cherish our most precious and sacred memories. Imagine someone, or something, tugging and pulling those memories away from you, one by one by one. Until it feels like you're left standing in the dark. Alone. In a pit.

Mom and Dad did have many happy days at the retirement home. Moments that she may not have remembered, but those of us left behind will never forget. But we hope that one day soon, a treatment or cure can come, so that no one else has to suffer from this awful disease.

Rest in peace, Mom. The pit is finally gone. In its place, a lovely hilltop. Where you can see as far and wide as you like in every direction, and go anywhere your heart desires.

But please take Dad with you. He's been waiting patiently. He says there's a Dollar Store nearby. And this time, he'll even let you drive.