Moving Out

This is the post I never thought I would write.

Tomorrow morning, we're moving my mom to an assisted living facility in Franklin.  As someone who never has been adept at handling change, I'm paralyzed by my emotions and memories of our lives, and my mom's life, in the house on Brenthaven Drive she has lived in for 44 years.  How did we get here so fast?

I know, in my heart, it's time.  For my mom, it's gotten to the point that we have caregivers there for 8 hours each day and Tracy or Alice has been staying with her at night.  When someone is not there with her, she's lonely, confused and scared, and that wrecks me.  She has such a difficult time navigating her way through the house that if she stays there, it's only a matter of time before she falls and injures herself.  Saddest of all, perhaps, is that in the mornings, Trace and Alice have had a hard time rousing her from the chair she sleeps in at night.

I am so angry, I guess, with God at giving her this burden to bear.  After all she has been through in her life and all that she has given to Tracy, Alice and me - and to many others - why would God take her mind and memories away from her, bit by bit, day by day?  Why couldn't she be allowed to enjoy her golden years like so many of her friends, driving herself to her grandchildren's sporting events and hosting holiday gatherings at her home.  My faith, always so strong and such an important part of my life, has been shaken.  I'm searching for a sense of perspective, now, and unable to find it.

It's so difficult for me to organize and process my thoughts about my mom's move.  So many memories in that house, in that back yard and in that neighborhood.  It occurred to me as I left the house the other day that virtually all of the stuff she accumulated over the years that is so special to her - photographs, trophies, the latch hook rug of Snoopy I made for Debbie Billings one summer in high school, framed newspaper articles about the Titans' Super Bowl Run - is just stuff that's going to end up in a landfill somewhere, sooner rather than later.  Depressing, but true.

This isn't about me.  I realize that, for sure.  But my mom has been such a vital and important part of my life for so long, it devastates me to see her going through this.  I want her to laugh again, to feel safe again, to not be lonely and to enjoy the life she has left to live.  Is that too much to ask?  I hope not.