Anyone who knows me well knows I am the youngest of 12 -- I have 7 sisters and 4 brothers. Sadly we lost a brother to cancer 3 years ago, but not before we had a long awaited all-sibling reunion in San Diego for the first time in about 40 years. Our father died in September 2002, but our mom is thankfully still with us.
Mom was born and raised in Barbados, and when she left for New York in 1944 to marry our dad, she didn't know then that she would never see her parents again, or that it would be 40 years before she would return to her homeland. She was 39 when she had me, 15 years after giving birth to our oldest sister, Bobbie. She never learned to drive, and never worked outside the home. The woman who never wanted children spent her life caring for them -- after raising all of us she babysat for her grandkids and eventually for teachers' children in our home. She loved soap operas, she was a voracious reader of romance novels, and could tackle a New York Times crossword puzzle like a wordsmith. She was an okay cook although didn't enjoy it, but we were well-fed. The concoctions she came up with on a very tight budget (like hamburger over rice, hotdogs over rice, kidneys over rice, cow tongue) have given us fodder for laughter today. She taught me how to be a mother in the way she loved me and took care of me.
Mom turns 99 today, Nov. 22. We are grateful to have her still, but dementia has claimed her memory and her mind over the last several years, leaving her a shell of herself. Phone conversations are short and lack substance -- she doesn't remember what she did five minutes ago, never mind that day, so we talk about the weather and how she's feeling. I tell her about my kids and my new grandson, wishing she could share in the joy of my growing family and the news of my daughters getting married next year. I don't even think she knows who I am, so I remind her that I am her youngest daughter (and her favorite 😉). I believe she pictures me as the young girl she knew when her mind was intact. She can't fathom that I have a 32-year-old son who is married and has a baby, and that her own "baby" is 60 years old.
She tells me how much she misses me and always asks "when can I see you." I tell her about the pandemic that won't allow me to fly there to see her, and I know she doesn't understand. Yesterday I told her how last year at this time a few sisters and i surprised her on her 98th birthday when we traveled to Alabama where she lives with our sister Linda and her husband Ron. She said how nice that would be if we could go this year, or maybe one day she can come visit me. In spite of her scattered mind, I'm fortunate to be able to tell her I love her and hear her say it back.
I often wonder about the jumbled thoughts in her head. Does she know us in her brain, but can't process the memory to convey it to us? Yesterday she told me that someone told her she was going to be 99, and wanted to know if that's true. I told her it was and she said "good thing I don't look it!" I asked her if she felt it, and she said "no, I don't!" I hope I can say the same if I live to be 99!
She is like the energizer bunny -- she just keeps going! She survived an intestinal obstruction last year, pneumonia, several falls and fainting spells. She walks with the help of a walker, but physically is in pretty good shape. She has certainly gifted us with good genes!
It's been hard watching her mind whither away the last 10 years or so. But it's been the most difficult on Linda who has cared for her for about 8 years and sees her mental and physical decline daily. She left her job at the pet store to be home with mom, and can no longer just pick up and go somewhere -- she must first make arrangments for someone to be with her. Linda raised her own 5 kids and helps with her 9 grandchildren, and now with our mom it's almost like she has another child to take care of. She answers the same questions over and over again, makes sure she eats her meals, and is her caretaker in every sense of the word. She never complains to us about it and doesn't see it as a burden.
We owe a debt of gratitude to Linda and Ron. Thanks to them, mom is well-cared for and loved. And we can rest easy knowing that. So in this week of Thanksgiving, I am grateful to Linda and Ron for being mom's lifeline and giving us peace of mind. God has set a special place for them in heaven!
Hopefully this time next year we'll be celebrating Mom's 100 years with a family reunion of epic proportions for our 4-generation family!
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