Dad should have fucking warned me.

On Thanksgiving Day, my father told me we'd be having Thanksgiving dinner with mom and my brother Doug at the extended care facility that mom now resides at.  I was excited and anxious.  I was happy to be spending it with my family but anxious because I knew mom was sick.
So Dad and I walk into the facility.  My dad is walking briskly like he owns the place, saying hello to some of the residents and chatting with some of the care workers.  Me, well I was dumb struck.  I was just looking around at the things on the walls and trying not to stare at some of the residents and following behind my father, just like I did when I was a kid.
We arrive at mom's room and my dad chatted with her main care worker.  Mom needed a warmer coat, they had a bag of laundry by her bed for dad to wash (family is expected to do the laundry for the residents) and they woke her up from her nap a 1/2 hour ago so that she would alert when we arrived.  Dad thanked her and walked into the room, me towing behind him.
My father pulled back the curtain and said "Mother, look who's here."  I couldn't see her as I was behind him all I could see was his back.  Then dad stepped out of the way.  There was a woman in the bed, but it wasn't my mother.  This woman was old and her hair was short and grey and messy.  This woman was thin and frail and her hands were trembling and her head tilted to one side. This woman had a hallowed and expressionless face.  This was NOT my mother.  My mother would sit up and say "Jesus Lisa-Marie can't you put on a little make-up and stop dressing like a boy and you lost more weight".  My mother would've expected some flowers or chocolate and would have nattered on about the nurses and the patients.  My mother would have her hair coiffed and wearing lipstick while she filed her nails.  No, this was not my mother.
When I realized this was my mother, my breath stopped and my knees buckled.  I had to grab on the rail of the bed to stop from falling down and crying.  I grabbed her hand and feebly said "Hi Mom".
Dad had decided it was a nice enough day to take mom outside to get some sun.  The care workers would have to come to lift her to her chair and secure her into it so he was going to fetch them and he left us.
I found a hair brush and I started to gently brush her hair and I started to cry.  "Oh mom," I said to her "I miss you so much".  And she just stared at me and while I brushed I stared back into her deep brown and lifeless eyes.  But then something happened, her eyes got wide and big and she said in weak voice, "Lisa-Marie".  I sobbed now but not from sadness. I sobbed from happiness because now I knew that somewhere deep in her mind there was still a little bit of my mom left and I am so happy to have that little bit of love.