This month when I visit my mother, 98, who has been in hospice for five months is emotionally draining. Yesterday when I shared this with two women in private conversation after a literacy meeting, they shared their perspectives. "My mother has been gone four years. Each time I visited my mother during end-of-life stages, I felt I would soon be orphaned", one remarked. Another shared, "My mother has had Alzheimer's for the past 15 years. I do not feel like I have a mother anymore", another lamented. And just the day before a friend reflected, "I am so glad you have your mother one more day." This exquisite woman maintains a home in CO while caregiving for her mother in GA where she continues her professional life as an academician. God bless my friends who continue to travel or follow a passion with art lessons and chorus while caregiving for their husbands with Alzheimer's going on four years.
But I digress from my feelings. At 71, I am fortunate to be active in the academic and business environments - albeit part time, though I cannot do anything part time. With the housing bust my home fortunately is rented at present though it sat empty and then devasted by tenants the remaining years. Spiritual armor has protected me as I concentrate on fulfilling my life and being there for my family, friends, and reading mentees.
Hopefully, that spiritual armor will protect me through the next phase of life with expected loss though I love my friend's saying, "98 going on 120" in referencing my mother. I want to enjoy each day, tucking treasures in my suitcase like a book a grade school friend wrote that I can share with my mother. I will also bring her a Jewish calendar remiscent of the ones she hung on a kitchen cabinet in my parents' condo in S FL. Birthdays, anniversaries - recorded year after year, remembered with just the perfect card, her thoughts underscored at time as I find myself doing for emphasis.
Sharing with you has already lightened what was a burden ten minutes ago. In less than two weeks my friend will drive me two hours from the mountains of NC to Charlotte to board my flight. One of devoted brothers and/or my sister-in-law will pick me up at the airport where construction is anything but straight driving. We will visit alone and together, laugh as our family always has done, not ridiculing but sharing slices of life. I will be able to praise staff personally - this woman from a distance - does she really care? Yes, she cares hourly, prays daily, and includes you in her prayers.
It's Sunday when I usually phoned my mother in addtion to mid-week calls since my father's passing fifteen years ago. Today, we cannot hold a conversation long distance, not even the 3-minute conversations to save money, a carryover from the Depression. She cannot read even large-print books but hopefully will be able to recognize me. I see a "grabber" in a TV ad and feel a tinge of sorrow that I never purchased one for my mother. I choose to remember how she drove up from Ft. Lauderdale to Boca by herself to be with my brother and me. My brother was right to encourage her to stretch herself as my daughter did me after a sudden loss.
Please feel free to share your comments anonymously, if you wish, or write to me at evelynasher@charter.net. Together, our journeys will be sweeter.
