My mom doesn’t understand that a virus is attacking the world.
She doesn’t know that those most at risk are the elderly and that at 96, she’s a non-moving target.
She doesn’t realize that the virus takes the most vulnerable, and those who live in a “memory care” facility are the most vulnerable. Continue reading
As my mom’s life slowly unravels – her brain forgetting my name, her thoughts floating in a vast ocean of faded blues – I wish I could thank her for her cakes. Continue reading
Sometimes I wonder if souls can shatter, despite their superb strength.
As I drive the seven hours to my mom’s facility where she is suffering from end-stage dementia, my heart beats fast and fills up with pale blue, silky pink emotions. At 6:30 a.m. I’ve been driving for over an hour. The sun begins its rosy ascent over the paved hard highway, and I’m lulled by the soft snores of my daughter in the passenger seat and my two young grandsons in the back seat, covered from chin to toe in soft flannel blankets. Continue reading
I look at you and wonder
Who you see
I watch the worry in your eyes and
Pray you see the one that you desire. Continue reading
It all begins with a plaintive complaint.
I don’t know who to send it to – my long-winded grievance – so I find the website of the hospital where my mom is recovering from unexpected surgery. On the long 9-hour ride back home from visiting her, I locate a blank “your concerns” form.
With one succinct sentence (“I am unhappy with the lack of support and communication during my mom’s stay”), the surprise transpires. Continue reading