But she's not there

Every morning when I wake up, I say thank-you.  I do so because it means that a phone call in the middle of the night didn't wake me.  But if the phone were to ring and wake me in the middle of the night, I might still say thank-you because that would mean that mom has passed peacefully in her sleep.  I don't want to completely lose her, but after a day like today, I realize that I already have. 
Mom no longer has good days.  Now she has a good couple of hours and even less.  During these times she is alert and upright.  She will know who I am and who other people are and she will blurt out the occasional name or word and it shows me that she's there.  Mom isn't in the moment but something has triggered some grey matter in her brain and she's thinking about something.  I like those times, I like them a lot.
When mom has a bad spell, it is totally different.  She is hunched forward and can't support her head at all, even with the orthopaedic neck pillow that she has.  She drools and her nose doesn't stop running.  She stares out into nothing with a dead look on her face.  Her hands shake and her body will jerk uncontrollably.  But the absolute worse thing that happens during her bad spells is that she looks at me and she has no idea who I am.  None what so ever.  Mom will actually get a look of fear on her face when she's not there because she doesn't know who I am and she's frightened.  She doesn't know who anyone is and she's scared.  She doesn't know where she is and she's anxious.  It's a terrible thing to see, an complete look of real terror on her face and if she could scream, she would.
When she gets like this, there are two things that I do.  Sometimes taking her to the chapel and just sitting with her will calm her down.  She still doesn't know who I am but I think that she thinks that whoever I am, I must be a good person because I have taken her to a church.  Sometimes the church is being used for a service as many denominations utilize it.  When that happens I take her to her room.  I position her in front of her wall of pictures.  I don't know if this helps her to remember but she will stare and stare at them and it calms her.  I watch her and I can see the wheels turning in her head and she is struggling to remember these faces.  On occasion she will remember a face and just the other day she blurted out "Ryley!" and then looked at me for approval and I said "Yeah mom, your grandson Ryley, my son."
Today during a bad spell, the Anglicans were using the chapel so I took mom to her room and placed her in front of the pictures.  She stared and stared and stared and stared and then she started to cry.  I held her hand and she tried to flinch.  I picked up one of the photos and I pointed to my brother Doug and I asked her who that was.  No answer, so I pointed to uncle Gene and asked who is that.  No answer.  And so on and so on and she didn't know who anyone was.  I pointed to her image in the picture and I asked her again, who is that.  Again there was no answer.
I wheeled her to the mirror and I placed her in front of it and I said, "That's you mom, who are you?" and she stared and stared and said "Mom."  I started to cry.
"That's you mom, Elaine Mary Remesoff, you're Elaine Mary Remesoff!"  She kept staring and I was thinking she really doesn't know who she is.  I then I thought how horrifying it must be to look in a mirror and not know who you are.  I sat on the bed and cried some more.  Cathy the nurse came in, sat beside and put her arm around me.  She said that they would put mom down for a nap and maybe after a rest, mom would be better.  I stood up and wiped my tears away and kissed mom  on the forehead.  "See ya mom," I said.
"See ya mom," she said and I walked out and turned around to look at her, but she's not there.