Memories
As she worked in the garden I could see the few strands of grays peeking out around the natural curls of her jet-black hair. It was important to get an early start picking the beans that morning. I could smell the fresh cut hay in the breeze coming through the open window. Voices were coming from the barnyard. I hurried and dressed, to get downstairs before she got in from the garden. Her smile as she came through the kitchen door was warm and I could see that she welcomed the help. I watched the tractors pull away from the barn. We sat and broke the beans together. It was very comforting being with her. Her fried chicken, pork chops, green beans, potato salad, biscuits and hot apple pie were her husbands favorite after a long day in the fields. On this day there were to be eight neighbor men for dinner. She hummed a familiar medley as we cooked and would occasionally break out in chorus. She could work all day in the garden and never look sunburned. Her face was light, her eyes were cheerful, no matter how tired she would be. When one of us would enter the room, as if to see us for the first time, she would often say, “I can’t believe all of my children are taller than me. But you still have to be careful not to put on weight, you know you’ve inherited my child bearing hips.” She slipped away for a few minutes. She never let anyone see her without lipstick. She impressed upon us to have pride in our appearance. As I readied the table, she straightened her dress and gave her hair a final pat. My dad and the workers came through the door. The feast was on the table and Mom looked beautiful.
These memories of the days gone by, I hope will always be as fresh in my mind as they are today.
My mother came to live with my family and I for three months. The reasons that led up to why she came are not important. Those reasons lost their merit the first day she walked through the door. My mother is eighty-eight years old. She suffers from Alzheimer’s. She is the most beautiful, wonderful and spirited person I’ve known. We aren’t sure of what changes will need to be made while Mom is visiting. We only know, we feel up to any and all changes that are necessary to ensure her comfort.
My daughter and I spend the first two months laughing. Mom has always been fun loving. Now, she is even more so, she seems to smile continuously. She has what is called good and bad days. To me this means, on good days she knows what she is talking about, and on bad days, her memory, the time of day, and where she should be, is misplaced. For us, every day is a good day for three months. As I said, we laugh the first two months. We laugh for many reasons. First, Mom’s sense of humor is amazing; she talks and acts out situations in such a creative way. Second, we never know what is coming next, so we enjoy the surprise element. Third, we laugh to keep from crying, because we see a woman we do not know. The face is familiar, but her knowledge, characteristics, and her inability to be active in ways of walking alone or think correct thoughts independently, is not Mom.
I sleep with Mom every night. As I lie and listen to her snore or click her teeth together I feel a joy to have her so close. It is fulfilling to have the opportunity to take care of her in a way that she once cared for me. I find such joy in the little things Mom does, such as, beating an egg with a fork, or mixing a cornbread mix together. The first week she was here, I asked her if she wanted to help cook. Her eyes showed fear as I helped her walk to the kitchen, then I could feel her relax. She sat at the table with hands folded like the perfect lady she is. I told her what the dinner menu was to be, she smiled and said, “I think I should be able to help a little.” Mom learned to beat mixes by hand long ago, so I handed her the fork with the bowl and ingredients inside. She sat for a moment, I gave her a minute just wanting to see how well her memory was these days. As she slowly started moving the fork in circular motion I could see the wheels turning in her head. At least three days a week we would enjoy Moms hand mixed cornbread muffins with dinner.
We played checkers, slow at first, then with more confidence. She was soon reciting poems she learned long ago, and finishing my sentences on some occasions. The more she did, the better she did it, on her good days. No Mom is not the woman I knew when I was growing up; she is even more, she is my heroine. Her strength, her courage, her zeal for life, Oh, how I do admire this person.
My parents brought nine children into the world. They lost a little girl at the age of four to heart disease. We lived on a farm with chickens, cows, horses, and pigs. The old home place is still in the family, and we often take Mom back in hopes to jar her memory with a story of long ago.
Mom has stayed with us for only three months, but the memory and blessings she has left with us will live forever.
We took Mom back to her home March 3, 2002 thinking we will now go back to a normal household. You know, the rush of everyday life. But Mom, we still stop everyday and smell the roses, because you showed us how to slow down and appreciate all of the good around us. And, to be thankful for what we have today. My hope is that I can bring as much joy to my children as you have given me.
The last month we are with Mom we do not laugh as much. For my daughter, a senior in high school, the seriousness of Alzheimer’s and the aging process has sunk in. For me, I feel numb. It feels we are living in a TV LifeTime story. I think I will keep a journal of these three months, but early on I realize I do not want the information that close at hand. I only want what my memory will allow.
I saw Mom a week later after taking her home, to where other siblings are caring for her. She had already forgotten the three months we were together. She told me she was glad to see me because my face looked familiar and friendly.
Little did we know what a tremendous blessing we had invited into our home.
Mom left this world on September 14, 2002 at 4:08 p.m. to continue her journey.
-MaryEvelyn