Brittney Williams with her mother
At 24 years old, Brittney Williams became a full-time caregiver to her mother with Alzheimer’s and parent to her four youngest siblings. Though met with challenges, Brittney’s powerful testimony shows that love always wins. She shares her story with BlackDoctor.org below.
On October 18, 2013, the day before my 26th birthday, I buried my mother. Her death was neither shocking nor unexpected; she had been diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease five years prior, at the young age of 49.
The illness had been a calculated and insidious thief, robbing us of her bit by bit. Along the way, I stepped into the role of full-time care provider to my mom; I sometimes marvel at the fact that I even made it through the immensely trying experience. I marvel even more at my youngest four siblings—aged 15, 14, and 13 (twins) when I assumed the role—who in helping me, were required to step up in ways that far exceeded their years.
The time I spent as a caregiver began with failure. I returned home in the summer of 2011 after being suspended from the University of Michigan—where I was a sixth-year senior—for academic reasons. My mom’s diagnosis during my junior year had broken me, and several semesters marked by failed courses and late withdrawals followed.
Three months after I came back, my father was offered a coaching position in another state, and left almost immediately to start. Consequently, a woefully unprepared 24-year-old me was tasked with organizing a cross-country move, providing full-time care to my mother, and toeing the line between big sister and parent to my youngest four siblings.
Once we settled, I developed a routine, getting up around 6 a.m. to set a very organized chaos into motion. It started with waking, changing, medicating and feeding my mom, while simultaneously making sure that “the kids” ate breakfast, wrote their extracurricular schedules on the family whiteboard, had lunches packed and got to the bus on time.
Days were lonely, especially since my mother was largely non-verbal. Still, I found solace in the fact that even as her verbal lexicon became nearly non-existent, “I just love you” was among her favorite things to say. She loved me. She also loved music. One of my favorite memories from that time is when my mother heard Beyoncé’s “Love on Top” over the grocery store PA, and broke into a full-fledged performance in the middle of the pasta aisle.
Mother and daughter in earlier days
Before I knew it, though, I was forced to accept the fact that memories were all that remained.
My mother was gone, taking my identity with her. I was unaware of how much caregiving defined me until I was sitting in an empty house after my father and siblings had returned to work and school. Once again, I felt broken. I felt like a failure.
I remembered, though, that my mother was resilient, and so was I.
After six months, I started working part-time, and a month after that, I took over the household when yet again, a new job took my father across the country during the academic year. Serendipitously, that job was in Michigan. I chose to move with my family, but venture out on my own again once we arrived. That leap of faith positioned me to expand my Alzheimer’s advocacy; [finally] graduate from Michigan in 2016; be named a Student of the Year; and in December, graduate with an MSW from Michigan.
Success has been bittersweet, because in every shining moment, I deeply miss my mother. But I have peace because I cared for her in the way that she cared for me, and gratitude because even amidst succumbing to illness, my mother molded me into the kind of woman I was always capable of being.
Thank you, Mommy. I love you.
Brittney Williams is a second-year Master of Social Work student and Geriatric Scholar at the University of Michigan. She has been a volunteer for the Alzheimer’s Association in various capacities for eight years, currently serving as Ambassador for the 12th Congressional District. In continuation of her mother’s legacy, Brittney is a proud member of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc.
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