We moved my mom into Maristone Thursday morning. It was difficult, though not as bad as I thought it would be, probably because we all were so busy. Because she was only taking a few pieces of furniture and the double bed from the guest room, along with some clothes and frames photographs, the movers were loaded and gone in less than three hours. I ran a couple of errands for her, then met Tracy and Alice at Maristone with the move in well underway.
When I walked into Maristone for the first time, I was overwhelmed with, I guess, sadness. I saw several elderly people quietly eating lunch in the dining room, some of them hunched over with the ravages of old age. It suddenly hit me - they're just like my mom. In fact, she's in worse physical shape than many of them. My second thought him me even harder - they're not leaving here and neither is my mom.
Damn, it's hard to write that last sentence. It's hard to write any of this, but I have to get it out, once and for all, although I'm not sure why. The last 2 days are a jumble of emotions and thoughts.
Jan Baker arrived shortly after noon with my mom and she seemed okay, though confused. She started to settle in and I felt good enough about things that I left and went to the office about 3 p.m., planning to spend a couple of hours there. Just before 5 p.m., Alice texted me and asked me to come back to Maristone right away. As often seems to happen at sundown, my mom had gotten confused and was becoming more and more agitated with Tracy.
I packed up my gear and left the office and got Maristone a little after 5 p.m. When I walked in her apartment, my mom looked up at me from her chair and asked, "Will you take me home?" "No," I answered, and I could feel my heart breaking. "This is where you're going to stay." She gave me a blank stare, totally confused, and asked, "Why would I do that?" She got more and more agitated as I tried to explain to her why she was there.
I suggested Tracy take some things to her car to give her a break because I could see that she was close to despair. Sadly, Tracy bears the brunt of my mom's resentment, much as my mom did when she was taking care of my grandmother in her later years. I quickly realized there was no reasoning with her because she wasn't capable of remembering why she was Maristone or understanding that it was the best thing for her.
Eventually, she settled down and I left Tracy with her for the night. Tracy slept there to keep her company.
Friday morning, I worked from home for a bit then ran some errands for my mom. Her remote was missing and I stopped by her house, our house, to look for it. As I walked inside, the stillness enveloped me and I fell apart. It's hard to explain, but it was like the mostly happy spirit that had inhabited the house for the last 44 years had died. I sobbed to myself as I walked from room to room, memories flooding my mind like images on a movie screen. It was so sad. So much of that house was my mom and suddenly, in less than three hours, she had vanished, gone forever. The spirit in the house died when she left. It was just a house, like any other house, because it was no longer her house.
No more Thanksgiving or Christmas gatherings with family. No more gatherings of family and friends to watch a big football or basketball game. No more anything. Just a house full of junk to be thrown out, cleaned and eventually sold.
I wish I could say I felt better when I left, that perhaps all I need was to let my emotions take control been for a few minutes. No, I felt just as sad, if not more so, when I left the house and drove to Maristone Friday afternoon to stand vigil, so to speak, as mom in her altered state tried to acclimate herself in what she really has no idea is her new, and last, home.
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