Many of you have asked after my mother, all in all she is doing well. When she moved into Hale Ku’ike, the staffers there built her a raised planter bed so she could continue to garden.
I went to see her today and during lunch she went from being very bright and cheerful, to being confused and asking about coming back home with me. She hasn’t been this confused in a long time. I stayed with her for awhile, but then it was time for me to go. As I drove away, the song “For Good” from the Broadway show “Wicked” popped up on my ipod.
(Glinda) I’ve heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true
But I know I’m who I am today
Because I knew you
This is so very true about me and my mother. She not only nurtured me in her wonderful garden of earthly delights, she remains the keeper of my past. She’s the one who knows all my faults, but who has always celebrated my triumphs. I have to remind myself to cherish the good days we’ve had, understanding that there may not be too many more of them. Also, that has her mind goes, so much of my past goes with it. I realize how often, when I needed to know some bit of family history, she’d always be there to fill in the bits and pieces that I don’t remember.
(Elphaba) It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You’ll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend…”
Every time I leave my mother, there’s a mix of relief, knowing I can go and live “my” life the way I want to and regret, knowing that the woman who had always been my best friend isn’t really “there” to share it anymore.
(Elphaba) And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the thing I’ve done you blame me for
(Glinda) But then, I guess we know
There’s blame to share
(Both) And none of it seems to matter anymore
All of the old hurts and disappointments feel so shallow now, and each time I see her, it reminds me how precious our time together has always been. But what’s a girl to do when she finds herself crying and driving at the same time? Luckily enough, my car’s autopilot was set for the nearest shopping mall.
I did need to buy some shoes (really, a good pair of dog walking shoes. If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you the receipt.) But I also needed to be around people. Real people. There are the characters in my novel and they talk to me a lot, but they have problems of their own. So what did I see?
1. A set of twin brothers, each with an almost identical looking girlfriend at their side.
2. Two service members saying how good it was to be back in a place full of Americans where they speak english. (I asked, they’d just returned from stops in five different countries).
3. Two sisters, each with great bee-hive hair, each with their make-up on just so, dressed in high heels and stylish clothing. But between them, was their mother, each daughter holding an arm, helping their mom to walk through the mall. Each sister had that look: a combination of resignation and despair. Ah, I know it well.
I really did need some cheering up, so I popped into a boutique that carries very cute charms and came across one that read: “If a girl wants to be legend she should go ahead and be one.” It was just the pick-me up I needed, and now it sits around my neck. We should at least give ourselves permission to be legends in our own lives. And my mother’s antics are legendary in mine.
I came home and as I parked the car, my phone rang. It was my mother. She said that she realized that she’d spaced out somehow. That she saw herself in a long dark canyon, with tall walls over twenty feet high, and she couldn’t figure out how she got there, and why she hadn’t been able to get back to Kailua before I did. I told her I realized she had spaced out and I was sorry she had to go through that. I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was, that someone from Hale Ku’ike came and got her and now it was time for her to have a cup of tea. I told her to enjoy a cup for me and that I’ll see her again tomorrow.
And I will see her, and I will tell her that I love her and she will say “I adore you” and we’ll water her garden.
There’s not much else to say. But thank you for being out there, it gives me some solace having this tiny space in the blogosphere to talk about my life. I hope you all can take something from it. If anything, it is to enjoy the lives that are given to us. There is so much that seems to be out of our control, but there is one thing we can control, our attitude towards it all. I wish you all the best and say thank you, thank you, thank you for being there. I hope you have a marvelous weekend, and I look forward to hearing from you. xoxoxoxoxo
Oh Rachel, you are an amazing person. An amazing daughter. It’s no wonder your mother adored you!
Thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing your moments with and about your mother with us. This is precious time that you have with your mother. I know you appreciate every moment because of the compassionate person that you are and the love you have for your mother.
I am sending you big hugs right now across the Pacific Ocean through the blogosphere! Hang in there Rachel. We do care. 🙂
Oh Karen, thank you so much for your kind words, it helps to be able to share my feelings here, and not just stuff them down with more chocolate. She is a real trooper.
My heart goes out to you, Rachel. I’m still in Oregon with my parents for another week, and my dad has the opposite problem – his body is dying but his mind is still very much there. I cherish the time I have to read to him, building a memory I didn’t expect to have. I envy you living close enough to spend regular time with your mom, even if it does mean crying and driving at the same time. Glad you found some retail therapy, and a lovely charm to lift you up.
Hi Jennifer, yesterday was a surprise because usually her mind is still pretty sharp and her physical ailments are what add to her frustration. Thanks for your kind words and enjoy your time with you dad.
Rachel, I wish I could give you a big hug. I can totally empathize with what you’re going through. My father spent the last year and a half of his life in a skilled nursing facility. I wasn’t close enough or financially able enough to get to see him as often as I liked. Mom is still very capable and spent every day of that last time at his side. We’d talk almost every day as I drove home from work and when I got home, I’d often just sit in my truck and cry. Hang in there girl, and take care of yourself too!
Hi Serena, luckily the place where she is living is only 15 minutes away, so I can see her often, but it’s just this slow process wears on you. Thanks so much for the encouragement and the hug!
Thanks for sharing this journey with us, Rachel. My mom has Alzheimer’s and although she’s still living at home, it won’t be for much longer now. sometimes she’s okay and sometimes she’s not. we have never been close but I can appreciate how frightening it must be not to know who you’re talking to or why. bless them all.
Louise, I would recommend that you look up a woman named Teepa Snow and her “Gems of Caregiving” she has created a way to understand the various stages of Alzheimers/Dementia, she calls them “gems” and it is really, really helpfu. Just google “Teepa Snow Gems” and you can get the pdf. Good luck, it is a tough, tough disease to deal with.
Rachel, this is one of the best posts I’ve seen in a long time. Your mother is a beautiful lady, and I am happy for you that she found her way back from that dark place. Those folks who made her the little garden obviously are very caring people, as are you. The love between you and your mother shines through this post like a beacon. Beautiful. Thanks for sharing.
I also loved your cure for the blues, retail therapy and people watching are two of my very favorite things.
Prudence, thanks so much for stopping by. As writing is such a solitary endeavor, it does help to get out there and be with real people to remind you that “oh yeah, life goes on.” Thanks for your kind words.
Rachel, For some reason that at first I didn’t understand, the part of this story that struck me most was when you asked those servicemen where they’d been. I thought about what impressed me, and I realized that in spite of — or perhaps in addition to — what’s going on inside your heart, you care enough about yourself to know that other people’s lives are worth your curiosity. You are a warm and courageous person.
Anthony, thank you for your kind words and I’ve found that during my most stressful times, it is so easy to just get stuck in your own troubles and forget that others have troubles too, and that always helps me put things in perspective. Good to hear from you.
Make your memories Rachel. When you do get a chance to visit, take a small recorder. You never know when your mother’s lucidity will be sharp and you will be able to extract her memories, and those parts of your life that she has kept for you. When you get a good recording or some other tidbit, put pen to paper. In this way, when she moves on you will have a peice of her as a constant reminder of how much she loves you. My mother is my best friend too, and we hold so much of each other’s lives that some stories cannot be properly told unless we are both present. She insists that she doesn’t expect to live another twenty years, though family history says otherwise. I am like you, I treasure the time I have with her, even when she makes me crazy. Make your memory book now, with her. In her lucid moments, she will tell you the best stories, and know that you are making her immortal. She will be able to leave you with whatever lessons she may still have to teach and will know how very much you love her.
Hi, that is a wonderful idea, and we have done several memory projects in the past. She has a dear friend who turns 90 this May and can’t travel to see him for his party, so I’m planning to record a video greeting to send him. I think that will be a good opportunity to ask her more questions and get it on tape. Thanks for your suggestions and thanks so much for stopping by.
I wish the technology had been so easily portable when I last saw my great uncles together
Nothing like a bit of shopping to help soothe the spirit! Your mother sounds like a special lady who is handling her infirmity with grace and dignity. I wish you both well, and thank you for sharing it with the rest of us!
–Kathy