Moving Day
Looking back I realize my approach was a bit naive. Kristina had warned me it would be difficult settling my mom into the new place but I didn't believe her, or maybe I just didn't want to face it. I thought my mother had declined enough not to realize the implications, or that she would be happy about it, after all she has been wanting to move out of her place for months (all 8 of them in fact). But now, I realize until yesterday my mom had held out hope she would be 'coming home' with me.
As I packed up her room she and Carolyn went for a walk. It took me 8 trips to get everything loaded. Why had I moved her in with so much stuff in the first place? Three suitcases of clothes, a TV, 18+ picture frames, a bedside table, a large chair, and a five foot cabinet I had to drag along the two floors, into the elevator, through a parking lot and into a truck myself.
When we arrived at her new home initially she seemed fine, even introducing herself to the receptionist. Then one of the care aides extended a warm and gentle introduction - my mother's chin began to quiver and her eyes filled with tears. I remember this chin quiver from last summer when she was initially placed in care. I call it the "worst day ever" and swear I need therapy to get over it because the memories haunt me to this day.
It's not that I don't realize that she is better off (I do). It's not that I don't know that she will be okay (she will). It's not that it hurts to see her cry (although it does). It is this particular cry, in this particular moment that - I know she knows. I can see it in her eyes that she knows, and I can see that she knows that I know as well. That is why she is crying and that is what breaks my heart.
Yesterday she knew she had Alzheimer's. Yesterday she knew I had sealed her fate in a new "home", she knew she was sick, and she knew what it meant for us and our lives together.
Fighting my own tears and a rock in my throat, I held her, and hugged her and told her that I know, and I'm sorry and that it was a great move for both of us. She told me she wanted to go home and I know it's not the "going home" part she wants - it's the "I don't want Alzheimer's" part she wants.
I stayed with her the rest of the day. Kristina came later and the three of us had dinner in the new dining room with a very sweet lady Alice. Eventually my mom's crying spurts were fewer and farther between. She started walking around exploring on her own. The care aides, nurses and activity coordinators were all warm and gentle with her.
Today I know I have done the right thing; I know it will be great for both of us; I just can't help feeling a little broken hearted that this is the ride we are on.
Reader Comments (1)
i love you trish