Learning life lessons

If anything good can be said about living with an Alzheimer's patient, it's that I'm learning so much every single day.
I'm learning to be patient. I always thought I was kind of a patient person, but living with Mom now has expanded my patience level a great deal.
Yesterday, we had to sign some papers in front of a Notary Public. Because Mom doesn't sign her name much any more, I had her practice signing her name before we left the house. When we got to the Notary, perhaps 15 minutes later, Mom couldn't remember how to sign her name. She started to sign "Mom," and I patiently corrected her. She finally got all three signatures down, but only after we practiced more.
I'm learning to be more observant, which I thought I was before, but I am finding I am not.
I watch Mom now more and discern what her behavior might be indicating. I'm getting good at reading her sign language and interpreting what she wants to say, although that's getting more difficult almost by the day.
I am learning to rely more and more on God and not my own self. That's a hard one and I don't know why. I have been a Christian since high school. I still have vivid memories of accepting Jesus into my heart and knowing I am a child of God. I also have vivid memories of when I joined the Catholic Church and how I went to Mass in the lovely little chapel on the Fort Wright College campus. I read my Bible daily and learn from it each day.
And I am learning who my true friends are. Right before Christmas, a friend of Mom's, who has known Mom close to 80 years, called her. She hadn't bothered to call Mom in more than six months. Before I called Mom to the phone, I told this friend I didn't appreciate her behavior and, knowing how ill Mom is, the very least she could do is keep in touch with Mom. She started saying how ill she had been, but I didn't want to hear it and didn't care.
And when I called a person who I thought was a good friend because I really needed to talk to someone about Martha's behavior, she dismissed me, said she'd call me back, but didn't until several hours later. When I related these incidents to my support group buddies, they all agreed that through this, I will find out who my friends really are. And I am.
I hurt enough from living with Mom and this disease for someone who says they are my friend and to call whenever I need to talk, to not be bothered when I really need them. I don't call people to talk about what's going on all the time. My group of friends who I feel I can talk to is dwindling.
When I really need to talk, I talk to God. He always listens. I'm learning that too.