Mother's Day + 1 week, 2015

Why has it taken me an entire week to write?  This Mother's Day was so different and difficult that a week may still not be enough time for me.

I was full of anticipation for this Mother's Day.  I was expecting to be enchanted by our beautiful granddaughter--welcoming her into our loving family circle and looking forward to all the moments yet to be shared.  All of those hopes and dreams were dashed by her polycystic kidneys and her death at only five weeks of age. The tragedy of the recessive gene and the irony that our son analyzes genetic material and research still have me reeling.  Mother's Days spent with a new grandchild are a dream for the future, rather than the present.

So, we went with heavy hearts to celebrate Mother's Day with my mother.  We enjoyed visiting at the nursing home and read her the card/ gave her the new clothes we bought/ sang with her through the musical presentation and felt that Mother's Day was at least spent with devotion to a mother who truly deserves praise and admiration.  Then, it was time for us to go home.  That may seem simple, but it turned into a terrible scene.  Mom thought she was leaving with us.  She was adamant about her need to leave the nursing home and very rationally told us that she is all alone there and has no money.  She told me that I'm a terrible daughter if I leave her there.  So we tried to calm her down and sat with her.  She was not having any of it.  It became clear that the pleasant afternoon was not going to get better if we delayed our leaving.  It broke my heart to leave her while she was yelling at me.  Her Mother's Day was lovely, but ruined by the unfortunate fact that she must live where she does and that I cannot care for her at home.  The changes in our lives and in her mental state ruined a good day.

So, Mother's Day was filled with sadness.  Thankfully, Mom won't remember any of it.  I, however, remember more than I want to.  I will always feel the hole in my heart for our lost Marlowe. And, I will try desperately to recall the days when I made azalea corsages for my mother and that was all she   needed to have a great day.  I will remember the Mother's Days when our boys were small--presenting me with hand-made cards and the hugs that warm a mother's heart.  I will enjoy the phone calls from our grandsons and the grown-up sons who make my day on the second Sunday in May.  I will hope that the future Mother's Days replace the sour taste this one left with me.  I will hope that next year, Mom is happy with our visit and at peace with her present life.

Mom at 90

Mom turned 90 years old on December 2nd.  I think it speaks volumes that I didn't post anything on that day... or for a long while after that.  Her birthday was lovely.  Family members(who were able) and her good friend, 95 year old, Stanley attended a scaled-down party for her at the nursing home.  Mom was in good spirits and very alert that day.  She had a good time, though she was shocked to hear that she is 90, rather than the 62 she thought (When she was asked how old she thought she was, she said 62.  When we told her that I am 64, she laughed and said : "That wouldn't work").

The reason this posting speaks volumes is because along with the good-day celebration, there was such a feeling of loss.  Of course I am grateful to have a good day to share with mom.  I know that at 90 she is doing better than many.  But... I am painfully aware of all that has been lost.  The fact that she no longer really knows that my brother is not HER BROTHER, or that his son is her grandson; the loss of her memory of our father and the life they shared pains me terribly.  Mom lives in the moment.  Her joys and sorrows are not catalogued or archived.  Sometimes I believe this is a blessing.  If she remembered the death of her brother she would be diminished beyond belief--their relationship was a linchpin of her life.  The loss of my father and the pain and anger it generated is also no longer remembered.  She sometimes doesn't even remember that she was married and had children.  But... a family is only as strong as its shared memories.  The bonds that form early in our lives influence all other relationships.  So, the erasure of that history from my mother passes the torch to the next generations to keep those experiences and memories alive. Names on a page in a Family Tree have no real meaning unless someone can tell the story of those people.  This is what makes us unique... that is what family is really all about.

So, December 2nd, 2014 was a good day.  We hope to share many more birthdays with mom.  We hope that on some level we bring joy to her "new normal".  And, we promise to remember and share the family history in order to keep the events in her long life alive for the younger members who never knew her when she was so independent and bright.
Belated Happy Birthday, MOM!

Thanksgiving...but...

This is Thanksgiving weekend/2014 and I definitely have so much to be thankful for.  I have a devoted and loving husband who has shared the last 42 years of my life; we have 3 wonderful and caring sons; 2 precious daughters-in-law; 2 bright and funny grandsons, and a new grandchild on the way in April. What more can anyone want?  As always on a holiday, I am keenly aware of those loved ones who share the event, and those who are absent.  My dad has been gone for nearly 25 years but I feel the void all the time.  My uncle passed away in March and I was missing him, too, as we ate our turkey dinner.  My mother is a resident of a nursing home and unable to come to our celebrations--her absence is the one I felt the most.  She is in a peculiar "twilight zone" of life--she is alive, and yet not part of our family gatherings.  As I prepared the turkey, stuffing, yams, corn bread and apple cake I had her in my mind.  I remember her taking on the preparations for our family Thanksgivings with wonderful results.

So, I am thankful for all the blessings that give my life meaning.  I am also grateful for having a mother who fills my mind with pleasant memories; and who taught me all I needed to know for carrying on the time- honored traditions of holidays celebrated with family.  I missed you Mom, at our table, but your presence fills my heart. Thanksgiving would have less meaning if I didn't have the opportunity to stop and remember you and all I learned from your wonderful example.

Rosh Hashanah-2014

So tomorrow we mark another Jewish New Year filled with the promise of sweetness, the Book of Life and all the hopes and dreams that are part of the Days of Awe.  In the past I loved Rosh Hashanah!  The challah baking, brisket, soup with matzo balls and apple strudel were all my way of welcoming in the freshness of a new start--it was always my way of showing my loved ones that I value them above all others in my life.

This year, though, dear friends will grace our table and none of our children will be home. We just bought a new dining table and I will be keenly aware of those dear family members who are not seated--my sweet uncle who passed away in March, and my mother, who is not able to leave the nursing home for our celebrations any more. We will share the special foods and blessings that mark the holiday.  We will light candles and be especially grateful for loved ones who are not blood relatives but who are our family, nonetheless.

Each passing year brings changes to our lives--some of those are easier than others.  The Days of Awe are meant to help us assess our strengths, weaknesses and the changes we must make in ourselves to be the best version we can muster.  This year is no different, but for some reason the passage of time and the changes that have occurred this year are harder for me.  I still revel in the baking and the cooking and the enjoyment that comes from sharing a holiday with such good people, but I need to work on the hopefulness that Rosh Hashanah usually brought me. May we all be inscribed for another year in the Book of Life and may we learn acceptance of the inevitable changes that mark our lives and face those changes with grace.

Just Pay the Damn Bill!

Even though my blog is generally about Mom, it has often included the time that my uncle spent in the nursing home, which was six years.  Today's frustration is assigned to the final bit of business related to his stay in the nursing home.  I have been receiving erroneous bills from the nursing home for the last year and have tried desperately to have the Medicaid budget corrected, but to no avail.  Now, I must pay the bill for the month of March, which was the last month of my uncle's life.  I know that all I should be paying is the amount of his pension, which was being direct deposited into his checking account and that I paid in check form to the home each month. I have tried to have the business office reconcile the bill and release his personal account money but each time I speak to someone in the business office, I am told that we owe a different amount of money and that there has been an outstanding balance for over a year.

I KNOW that their accounting is terrible, since I have found several errors in the past.  I also know that the previous business manager believed that someone was playing with the numbers to the nursing home's advantage ( hence she no longer works there!).  I know, too  that I must show a final payment of his debts to the court, since I am administrator of his estate and that no remaining balance can appear before I distribute the rest of his funds.  All of this ends in an impasse with the billing office.  They cannot/will not finalize the account and release his personal funds, and every time I call I either leave a voice mail, or I am told that they are still looking at the account.  I have lost my patience! Today I took my case to the Assistant Administrator who promised to look into the account and give me and answer within the next 10 days.  I truly don't believe that will happen.

Frank was difficult and demanding.  I am so ready to remember his good qualities and allow the less attractive things fade, but I cannot do that while I am still in the middle of aggravation that may lead to letters from collection agencies or lawyers, or questions from the court on the discrepancy between the amount I paid and the actual amount due according to the nursing home records.

Someone would say why don't you just pay the damn bill.  There is no money to meet their billed amount, and even if there were, I would refuse to allow them to  extort the money from us because of their own careless accounting. I will keep this going--but sometimes you just get tired.  I am so tired of the fight. So hoping to move on to the next chapter and yet I am not allowed to do it--at least not yet.

It Was Bound to Happen

Yesterday, Larry and I went to visit Mom.  I was feeling that I especially missed her because it had been 2 weeks since my last visit.  When we got there, she was sleeping in the dining room and it was very hard to wake her.  She said hello and went right back to her naps.  I spoke to the nurse to alert her to the possibility that there is a UTI brewing ( since that's been the M.O. for a long while when Mom is soooo sleepy).  Mom woke to eat her lunch and seemed a little more "with it".  She spoke very little but ate slowly.  Larry showed her a picture of Asher's toothless smile and we tried to explain her connection to him.  She didn't remember Asher, or Dan, or who I am in relation to her. I told her my name, and reminded her that I'm her daughter, but to no avail.  She just shrugged and I could see the vacancy that appears more and more on her face.

It was bound to happen, but it didn't hurt any less!  The process of me losing my mother is slow and painful and this is yet another milestone in that separation.

Sadness

Last week, my Uncle Frank died at the age of 91...only 3 days past his birthday.  I am so grateful that we were able to see him enjoy that day of balloons, and his favorite strawberry shortcake.  He seemed truly happy and at peace.  As I wrote his eulogy I reflected on his life and I believe that he really had a good one.  He enjoyed his job, married someone he loved and remained devoted to, and grew to be self-confident in his later years.

To sum up a life of 91 years is daunting.  How do you add up the accomplishments, joys, pains and disappointments?  How do you really do justice to what a person means to their family?  Seeing his remaining possessions in plastic bags really hit home.  We are all not meant to be on this earth forever.  We are flowers that fade and eventually we become dust.  Sure, that's depressing, but it's real.  It is, however, in the smile that crosses a loved one"s face at the mention of our name that endures.  If our name becomes a blessing, then our time here on earth had meaning beyond the years we were here.  So, Uncle Frank, your name will become a blessing.... Rest in Peace my dear Uncle.