It's been a little more two months since my mother died. I've created an altar to her in my living room, but I find myself rushing past it without really seeing it, without actually stopping and looking or feeling its significance. Somehow, I just can't. I think I'm open to the grief, but so far, in the first weeks of this journey of mother loss, I feel very little. The words, "My mother is dead," come easily from my lips, but they haven't reached my heart. They haven't hit their target. It's not real to me that she is really gone. Gone forever. Really dead, permanently dead. When I think about my mother, I mostly feel relief. Relief that she is no longer suffering. Relief that I no longer spend my days worrying that she'll forget she's not supposed to walk, and that she'll fall, that ... [Continue Reading]
The Ethics of Writing About Family: Laura’s Dilemma
This past March, as those of you following my blog already know, my partner Karyn and I took my 86-year-old mother, who is frail and suffers from dementia, on a trip from California to Florida so she could see her last surviving sibling one final time. The two sisters hadn’t seen each other in seven years and neither or them thought they’d ever see each other again, so the trip was definitely an act of kindness, a mission of mercy—one that was extremely gratifying for everyone ... [Continue Reading]
Saying Goodbye for the Last Time
It’s our last morning in Florida. I booked a late afternoon plane so we could get a direct flight home—and not have to rouse Temme for an early morning flight. This morning, Uncle Ben had to go to dialysis and I knew he'd be there for five hours, so I knew I had to say goodbye to him this morning. We shared an awkward hug—I didn’t want to knock him over—I thanked him for his hospitality and told him I loved him. Then I watched him walk with his lopsided gait slowly to the car, listening to the tap-tap of his cane all the way down the long cement pathway. Ben carried a worn insulated lunch bag, the same one he’s carried three ... [Continue Reading]
Pool Party
By the time we were up and had eaten breakfast and Mom had finished her two morning naps, it was 1:00 PM and I was really needing an outing. Lucy was working again today, so she agreed to drive Esther and Mom and I to one of the many pools gracing this complex. I put on my bathing suit and threw a pair of shorts and mesh coverup on top. Then I pulled out Mom's old bathing suit from the bottom of her suitcase. I wasn't sure I could manage getting her in the water, but I wanted to. Mom and Esther had grown up going to the beach at Coney Island, and I'd grown up at the Jersey shore. Our family spent summers at the beach and I associated Mom with a big wide brimmed hat, a bathing suit with a matching ... [Continue Reading]
Morikami Japanese Gardens
Before we left on this trip, Karyn and I were slowly making our way through the Showtime series, Masters of Sex. Every night here, I’ve been sneaking an episode after the house is still. I brought a tiny set of headphones and am watching in secret on my laptop. It helps me unwind after the long, unfamiliar day. My body is still on California time, so I'm wide awake after the elders turn in, though I find myself yawning at weird hours of the day.
This morning, far too early, I woke to the sound of TV blaring from the kitchen. Esther and Ben had told me they keep the TV on about 15 hours a day, and today, I guess, they were getting back to their regular routine—starting the day with the Today Show, like millions of other Americans. I lay in my tiny bed ... [Continue Reading]
Reunion Day 1
Mom woke up disoriented today, certain we were party-crashing her sister’s house, that we shouldn’t be there, that we were imposing, and that she was ready to go home. I wondered if I should give her a dose of the Ativan I'd brought along, but by the time my cousins Judi and Stuart showed up from their hotel, Mom had calmed down and we were all eating breakfast together—Jewish east coast foods not in my diet anymore—bagels and cream cheese and lox (I had fruit and half a bagel and peanut butter), orange juice and coffee. Mom slept through much of the day. She konked out on the couch after breakfast and when we took our one outing of the day to the Clubhouse across the street—a big excursion ... [Continue Reading]
In the Air and On the Ground
The morning went smoothly. Mom was disoriented when she woke up and had taken all her clothes off in the night, but I dressed her easily and helped her into the bathroom. When it came time to help her into her Depends and lift her off the toilet, I felt nothing but tenderness—and then my whole body sagged in relief. I was no longer that angry teenager or that estranged, distant adult. I loved my mother and I was ready to do this for her. This trip was really going to be okay. On the drive over to the airport, Mom enjoyed the waning moon, still up high in the sky. She commented on the changing colors of dawn all the way over Highway 17 as we headed north toward San Francisco. I realized that ... [Continue Reading]
T Minus 12 and Counting
The afternoon before our departure, I went over to pick up Mom’s walker, her medications, and her suitcase. I’d put a few things in it, and Rosa had packed the rest—her Depends, her toiletries, the container for her teeth and the tablets to clean them. A pretty black skirt and some shorts. A few tops. A bathing suit and a cover up. A few pairs of socks and several bras. A nightgown. Mom and I went over the contents of the suitcase. “What about my make-up?” she asked. I’d been hoping to slide by on make-up. I didn’t wear any and never had, and I’d never learned how to put it on. If I tried to make up Mom, she’d look like a clown. She always looked so nice when I came to see her at Sunshine Villa. ... [Continue Reading]
Packing Our Bags, Getting Ready
Over the next few weeks, I brought up our trip occasionally. Some days Mom thought her sister was coming to see her at Sunshine Villa. Other times she repeated the story about sharing the good news with Esther. “She was so delighted and surprised,” my mother informed me, every time. Esther had learned a thing or two about talking to someone with dementia. And for Mom? It was as if the trip was continually being planned for the first time. A week before we were set to depart, I sat down with Rosa Fernandez, Mom’s RA or resident assistant, at Sunshine Villa. Rosa is the person who helps Mom with “personal care.” And on this trip, that job would be mine. So I wanted to know what was required. “Your Mom is very easy,” Rosa began. And then she told me about their routine in the morning. Rosa ... [Continue Reading]
How Many Grandchildren Do I Have?
This is the second post in a series about my trip to Florida with my mother.... A few days after I bought our tickets—paying an extra $150 per seat so we could sit in the bulkhead, right next to the bathroom—I brought up our trip to Mom. “Hey, Mom, in a few weeks, we’re going to Florida.” Mom looked up at me and beamed. Then her face filled with consternation and she asked, “How many grandchildren do I have? Really? I wasn’t sure I should ask. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Had we really sunk this low? “How many grandchildren do you think you have?” She thought for a moment, searching the mostly empty coffers of her memory. “Well, there’s Eli. And Lizzy. And ... [Continue Reading]
