In a week I travel to help sort through my mother's small apartment and then move Mom into a bedroom at my sister's. Two years ago, I did the same thing--that time it was moving Mom from Henderson, NV, to Gwinn, MI. She has a cool converted storefront apartment which would cost a fortune to rent in any place other than Upper Michigan. She has loved it there, but now says in a sorrowful voice, "I guess it's time to move in with Sally."
Some of you are ahead of me on this. Sadly, both of your parents have passed away. Some of you still have both parents around for holidays, celebrations, and everyday chit-chats. Some of you share my current situation, one parent gone, one now slipping. Your counsel is welcomed.
My father died thirty years ago, at age 56, from what his internist called "bad luck cancer." He was a hard worker, often shuttling between two jobs. If you ever went to Hans' Gulf Station, in Lombard, IL, back when men pumped your gas, there's a chance my father helped you. That was his part-time job. He always wanted to travel, and his dream was to retire in Las Vegas, near his brother. He and my mother had finally started to go a few places when he got sick. Diagnosis to death was only took from Spring to Fall. Shit.
My mother is plucky--she went ahead and moved to Las Vegas by herself. She got a job at the DMV, bought a condo, took dancing lessons, and met her second husband, Ray. She started to write a novel, but then put it aside to care for Ray. Ray had been the sole survivor of a WWII plane crash, landing in German territory and spending several years as a POW. His severe injuries hadn't been treated; he would suffer from disabilities and constant chronic pain for the rest of his life.
After Ray died, Mom remained in Henderson. She bought another condo and took up ceramics. She returned to her book, which she declared would be a "blockbuster." She was certain that Dr. Phil would be interested in having an 85 year-old author on his show. She finished the book in 2014 and self-published "What Shapes Our Life," a family saga featuring Nora, a young woman in Southern Illinois after WWII. Mom was especially proud that she wasn't uncomfortable writing the sex scenes. (Lots of heavy breathing and passionate kissing.)
After her triumphant debut--although Dr. Phil has not called--she thought she might like to tackle a sequel. But she started taking tumbles in her apartment. She fell, sometimes during the night, and would lie on the floor until she could phone my sister. Sally would take her for a few days, until Mom would insist on returning to her own home. "I like my own company," she always says. Then Sally noticed that Mom hadn't reordered any of her numerous prescriptions. She couldn't remember if she had taken the ones that were still around, despite Sally's efforts to keep the pill reminder boxes up-to-date.
And so it goes. Apparently she was writing generous checks to a few charities each month. Forgetting to eat, and thrilled at her sudden ability to lose weight. Taking all day to read the small local newspaper...several times. Falling more frequently; we're amazed that she hasn't broken a hip. She's failing and she knows it. "I'm not great and I'm not terrible," she answered when I asked how she's doing. She wants to go to the funeral home when I'm there, to make arrangements. Sensible, yet unsettling.
How much longer will she be with us? It's sad to realize that parents aren't going to always be around. That we will step up and be the oldest generation. That we will fall. That someone will take care of us.
My husband I are orphans. Old ones! Soon our children will have to figure out what to do with us. Actually, we want to run our own show as long as possible.
Posted by: Hattie | 04/04/2015 at 10:13 PM