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 involved. The ... [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]
