This morning, we joined up with the Allens at Tipp-a-Canoe and, after renting two kayaks and three canoes, paddled the Harpeth River in Pegram, Tennessee, for a couple of hours. We got there early - just past 8 a.m. - which was huge, because the place was teeming with people by 9 a.m., all in line waiting for canoes and kayaks.
We had a great time with Russ, Susanna, Ella and Cooper, as we always do. We took turns in the kayaks and switched up the pair in each canoe during the roughly two hour trip. Joe was excited to see a chipmunk, a turtle and even a water moccasin (Jude was NOT excited to see that). It was a nice way to spend the holiday morning. Afterwards, we went to M.L. Rose on 8th Avenue for lunch and a little more hangout time.
Mid-afternoon, I drove down to NHC Place to see my mom. As I walked in, I heard someone playing the guitar in the community room. I walked on down the hall hoping I wouldn't find her in her room because she was listening and singing along with some of the other residents in the community room. I was a little sad to find her asleep in her chair, in her room, with Dr. Phil keeping her company on the television.
When we first moved her into Maristone roughly 18 months ago, she never missed a musical performance there. Then, when we moved her to NHC Place seven or eight months ago, she enjoyed it whenever someone came to play music. Now, though, things are different and she's just not very active. Most afternoons, she sleeps in her chair.
It's funny, I vividly remember buying a checkers game, along with Trouble, not too long after we moved my mom into Maristone in November 2016. I thought it would do her good to play games. I was a bit nostalgic, too, because she used to play Trouble with me every morning in California before she walked me across the street to kindergarten at (Howardine J.) Kling Elementary School. My hopes were a little ambitious as we played a couple of times but she couldn't remember the rules or follow along well enough to play. That seems like light years ago as now, of course, I can't fathom her playing any game.
It's crazy because in the early days at Maristone, my mom colored all of the time. She had coloring books everywhere and a container of colored pencils. She really took it seriously and, actually, was quite good at it. Her friend, Jan, colored with her whenever she stopped by to see her. It was her thing. She was forever stuffing colored pencils (and other things) into empty or partially empty Kleenex boxes. That habit was maddening, to me, but funny, too.
Now, a year and a half later, I would give anything - literally, anything - to walk into her room and see her coloring intently and to see empty kleenex boxes filled with her personal items. The remote control, makeup, colored pencils, etc.
I think that's sort of the acceptance phase of all this entire ordeal, at least from my standpoint. I suppose it's kind of like drowning. I fought like hell at the beginning and didn't want to believe this was happening to her. I was mad at the world. Mad and confused that God would let this happen to her. My expectations for her were high and I struggled to keep them there.
Slowly, as time passed on this terrible, dark journey, acceptance set in. I've quit fighting the reality. I'm tired of being angry. I'm just sad. Not necessarily at peace. I haven't gotten there yet and it's a place I may never reach. The inevitability of it all and, of course, the end is the new normal. I'm hollowed out emotionally, I think, and just kind of numb.
So, this afternoon, while my mom slept in her chair, I lay down on her bed and napped. And there was comfort in that, if only for a little while. She was present and I was there with her. Two people, mother and son, not talking, just napping. Just existing together, for a least a little while longer.
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