I should have started getting a clue when, on the rides to Maine for the weekend, my mom would keep looking out the car windows in wonder, and say, “Look at all those trees!” Because, it wasn’t said once, but countless times over; each time in amazement as if it were the first time to her. That was many years ago.
My mom was an R.N., and had seven children. How she did it I’ll never know. Now she is 92, and still lives at home under the care of my elder sisters and brother. She goes to Adult Day Care. My home is decorated with her handmade crafts, a glass butterfly, a wooden basket, a painted seashell. She is popular there, because she is always smiling and laughing. Sometimes I call her after a day at day care. What did you do today? “ I just sat here all day.”
Visiting her at my sister’s home, we will all eat together. She will pick up her fork, and say, “What am I supposed to do with this?”
She doesn’t really know she is our mother, so, now she is our friend, and I call her Shirley. As friends, we can play and laugh together. She is not plagued by trying to remember having children. Having US. We can’t stand that blank, scared look in her eyes. Now, she is the child.
I thank my family for caring for her; so she can live out her days in the home she grew up in.
I enjoy the moments. That is all she has. When she smiles, it is a treasure to me. For that moment, she is happy. I only cry for her afterwards, so she will not see.
Pawtucket, RI