“See you in a bit, Mom,” I waved as I walked toward the front door on my way to run an errand.  “Okay.  I’ll miss you.  I’ll be lonely.”  I ground my teeth and glowered.  The more I pull away, the more attached she wants to be, and in turn the greater my desire to turn away, and the greater her loneliness.  I’m not here to hold your hand and keep you company all day. I wanted to tell her.  I’m here to call 9-1-1 when you fall.  I’m here to feed you one good meal a day.  I’m here to keep you safe in your home until you die.  I never say any of these things, of course.  I’m too afraid to hurt her feelings, feelings which she cannot control or even be aware of in her dementia.