Does time just stop?

I've been slowly going through my parents' belongings.  I have to do it in small spurts or it is completely overwhelming.  They are alive.  They are simply 2 miles away from me.  But they're really not here. and going through their stuff feels like they died.  I had been putting off sorting through my mom's jewelry box, for, well... over a year now.  It's personal.  I remembered playing with her bracelets, necklaces and rings when she wasn't looking when I was a child.   I knew those things mattered to her, so they were forbidden from my little hands.  As I grew older, on special occasions, she would let me wear her set of pearls.  Those pearls are the real deal.  We have the paperwork to prove it.  I felt so special that she would let me wear them.  And slightly afraid that I would break them.  Fast forward a few years and she let me wear them on my wedding day.  And as a gift, she and my dad bought me my own set of pearls.

Anyway, I was cleaning out her jewelry box last week. Most things were outdated, unstylish, and borderline corny.  The selections I opted to save, I couldn't just shove in a box somewhere. I decided to use a jar to be able to see them.  To remember.  To keep in perspective that at one point, those were some of her prized possessions.  And now... well, now it's different.  She doesn't even remember that these exist.  They mean nothing to her.  At all. If I took them to her right this second, she wouldn't recognize any of the pieces. Look at how hard we work to get the "next best thing", only to eventually forget about it.

I dumped everything into this jar and noticed the watch, just sitting there. Stopped.  Frozen in time.  It seemed so symbolic, and so sad.  Is that what Alzheimer's Dementia feels like? Like time just slowed WAYYYY down?  Or that it even just stopped and the victim is trapped?  That's how I imagine it.  Mom and Dad's days and nights are pretty repetitive, pretty structured, and a little boring.  The staff tries to keep them involved, but they don't get a lot of visitors, and they certainly don't get to leave the facility very often.  Sometimes on my visits, just sitting in their room feels like the walls are closing in on me.  It's like time stops, and the only world that exists is the one within those four walls.

Part of me wants to throw the watch away. But the less emotional part of me appreciates the symbolism.  I do appreciate things that give me perspective, purpose and understanding.  Even during the harder times.