I love Kimberly Williams-Paisley as an actress, but I'm not crazy about her as a writer. This book wasn't terrible, but it wasn't very engaging, either. I kept putting it down and had a hard time motivating myself to finish.

I enjoyed the first couple of chapters, when Williams-Paisley talks about her start in Hollywood and her relationship with her husband, Brad. She had actually experienced these moments herself and so was qualified to write about them. Much of the book, though, is rightly centered on her mother and yet, Kim wasn't present for many of the experiences recorded; she had heard these stories second-hand. She also didn't seem to know her mother very well, even before she was diagnosed with Primary Progressive Aphasia, so it seemed strange that she was the one to write this book. I realize she has a greater platform with her fame, but I felt that it would have made more sense if her father or her sister, Ashley, had written it instead.

Though I wouldn't recommend this book to just anyone, I did appreciate Kim's honesty and think that it could be comforting to dementia-patient caregivers.

I received this book free through Goodreads First Reads. ( )

I found this book to be very interesting. Although most people are aware of Alzheimer's Disease and tend to lump all dementia patients in with them, Kimberley's mother had a different form and there are many more. She is honest with her feelings and doesn't try to paint a rosy picture. The appendix should be very helpful for anyone with family members with dementia. ( )

I borrowed this e-book because, just before a week-long vacation trip, I found out my 88-year-old mother had been diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia (FTD), specifically the nonfluent / agrammatic variant of the primary progressive aphasia (PPA) subtype.

Kimberly Williams-Paisley - the actress who played the bride in Father of the Bride and who is married to country music star Brad Paisley - wrote this book about her mother Linda Williams (formerly a fundraiser for actor Michael J. Fox's Foundation for Parkinson's Research - hence the forward). Linda was diagnosed with PPA (although hers was caused by Alzheimer's, not FTD) at the young age of 62. She died eleven years later, this past November 2016.

I'm still having a hard time dealing with and writing about my mother's diagnosis, so I am linking to a review by meandmybooks on LibraryThing that says a lot of what I want to say. Like that reviewer, the book title and cover photo made me hope for tips "for connecting with a loved one whose brain is deteriorating and whose communication skills/interest" are disappearing, but that did not happen. The author did, however, provide some insights on learning to accept what cannot be changed, as well as some helpful resources both in the book and on her website.

Williams-Paisley spends too much time, in my opinion, talking about herself and the effects of her mother's disease on her, and of course, as a celebrity, she also has access to services many of us could never afford. Nevertheless, this was a valuable book for me to read at this time.

© Amanda Pape - 2017

[This e-book was borrowed from and returned to a public library.] ( )

Sigh. Okay, I'm giving this five stars, because it speaks to my situation, but if I were rating it purely as a family memoir I'd have rated it a bit lower. Though that really wouldn't have been fair either, since illness memoirs aren't one of my preferred genres, and neither are autobiographies of actresses. The thing is, I'd never heard of Kimberly Williams-Paisley before Audible sent me an ad for this book (in its audio form), but it caught my eye because, like the author, I am losing my mother to a form of frontotemporal dementia.

Williams-Paisley tells the story of her mother's rapid decline from being an active, intelligent, strong-willed woman to her current (?) state of wheelchair-bound muddled silence as a result of Primary Progressive Aphasia. She talks about her feelings of guilt and her grief, her fears and her failures as she and her family struggle to help her mother adjust with some dignity to her condition, and, later, to cope with the challenges of caring for a confused, often uncooperative, but still deeply loved parent/spouse. The family's affluence means that there is a lot about talking with counselors and therapists, which, while I'm sure it's helpful, probably won't be part of the experience of less wealthy families dealing with this sort of thing. Otherwise, though, I found the book surprisingly... helpful. It wasn't helpful in the sense that it offered any serious hints for connecting with a loved one whose brain is deteriorating and whose communication skills/interest have vanished (the cover, with the smiling mother and daughter, while attractive, is a bit misleading). But, when my daughter asked me, worriedly, “Mom, why do you keep reading that book when it keeps making you cry?” I told her, “Because it's putting into to words a lot of things that have been in my head. Things that need to be said.”

Williams-Paisley articulates my most anguished fears,

”The possibility that she might still have normal thoughts and fears that were hidden from us, that she might be feeling the pain and horror of her experience or understand what was happening to her, was unbearable.”

Williams-Paisley continues, “I preferred accepting the loss and trying to move forward. But to do that I needed to mourn, and I was having trouble figuring out how while she was still alive. I was in a holding pattern of confused grief.” Which I get, but, for my mom at least, I'm sure that she does still have thoughts and fears, and the horror is the fact that, try as we will, we can't reach her, and she's trapped in a body that no longer works properly, feeling alone and utterly betrayed by those who should be able to rescue her.

I probably couldn't have made it through the book if the author's mother were more like mine. Her mom was tough, somewhat judgmental, a bit raucous – an adventurer, who pushed her daughter to tackle some real challenges. When PPA begins to affect her she loses social inhibitions and becomes dramatically emotional and occasionally aggressive. The differences between her mom and my own polite, gentle, incredibly nurturing mom (yeah, she's always been pretty perfect, and we were close) allowed me to separate myself from the narrative a little, which was a relief and saved the book from becoming completely waterlogged. The sections about Williams-Paisley's acting career and courtship, which normally would have bored me silly, were, in this case, a nice emotional breather. My mom appears to be suffering from a variant of PPA, Progressive Nonfluent Aphasia, which isn't better than PPA, as far as I can tell, but the difference did help me keep perspective and remember that this is just one family's experience. My mom's eyes still light up occasionally – when we were discussing “Romeo and Juliet” over dinner the other night (my daughter is studying it in school), I commented “You used to teach that play, Mom, right?” and there was a brief flicker of recognition. Our story may well end more happily, but Williams-Paisley offers a helpful perspective.

Finally, another aspect Williams-Paisley give a lot of time to, and that I felt was of particular value, was the incredible strain that caring for a partner suffering from a degenerative brain disease puts on their spouse. Hard as it is for adult children to try to assist, cheer, and communicate with a parent who has become silent and unresponsive, that sadness and loss can't compare with the physical and emotional exhaustion of the primary caretaker. Williams-Paisley chronicles her father's efforts, first to enable his wife to continue to work, drive, and interact socially, and later to care for her physical needs as her failing brain and uncontrolled emotions made life together increasingly dangerous and chaotic. My mom, withdrawn and unresponsive, though restlessly active, is, as I said, very unlike the author's, but the strain of 24/7 caretaker duty on my dad is similar, if less intense. Though it's something I've been well aware of and have done what I can to relieve, it's a point that just can't be overemphasized. Caretakers need to be supported.

Right up to the end I felt a little nagging resentment that Williams-Paisley wasn't going to come through with the promise of the subtitle “Losing My Mother Only to Find Her Again.” I knew she wasn't going to discover a magic charm for reaching past damaged brain tissue and connecting with the beloved person inside, the person who has been stolen away or trapped behind an impenetrable dark wall. And she doesn't, really. But what she does offer is the realization that she can take the lessons that her mom taught her by word and example about how to live a worthwhile life, and she can act on those and honor her mother by living in a way that would make her proud and happy. Williams-Paisley concludes with a story of joining her sons in playing in the icy waters of the Pacific, racing into the waves the way her mother did with her when she was a child. Reading this, I realized that, feeble though it is, I at least honor my mother when I try to follow her example in various ways. It's not much, but it's not nothing, and I know that if she could know I was doing it, she'd smile and be pleased.

So. A difficult book for me, but, despite the dull bits it gets five stars for utterly personal, nonliterary reasons. I admire and appreciate the author's (and her family's) courage in being so open about the family's struggle with this horrible disease, offering the possibility that their experiences and mistakes may be of some help or comfort to others. A disease that feels so utterly unrelenting in its progression can leave loving families and friends feeling rather despairing, but Williams-Paisley offers some valuable suggestions for making the best of a bad situation. Through her story she illustrates the necessity of support and compassion for the primary caregiver, family communication, and flexibility and imagination in connecting in whatever ways are still possible with the sufferer. She also concludes with an excellent section called “Resources,” offering, obviously, where to find resources for various dementia-related issues. There were several that I plan to look further into, and having specific websites is helpful. ( )

I appreciate it when people share their personal stories. Stories can help us all in this journey called life. Courtesy of my co-worker Jane, I got to read the galley of Kimberly Williams-Paisley's new book Where the Light Gets In: Losing My Mother Only to Find Her Again. The popular actress tells the story of her mother's diagnosis of Primary Progressive Aphasia, a rare form of dementia, and how she and her family have struggled to deal with this disease. She tells the good and the bad (or like her mom said "shit in a bucket"). We learn about her strong, complicated and successful mom who raised her right. It's a journey of a daughter rediscovering her mother despite the fact that the mother she grew up knowing was changing before her eyes. By letting go of the shame and secrecy Kim and her family have found unexpected humor, grace and a stronger family bond. As Kim states: "I need to love my mother in the innocent way my children do. The empathetic way Mom herself has loved people, sometimes total strangers, her whole life. I need to see her as she is, instead of how I want her to be." Good advice for all of us.

The Resources section at the back of the book with it's questions, answers and lists of questions to be asked will be helpful to those who are touched by aphasia and diseases like it. Check out this touching, warts and all inspirational story. It will touch you. It will make you laugh. It will make you cry. You cannot help but be inspired by Kim's story. ( )