It was her birthday. She was officially 63. And she died later that morning.
I hadn’t heard her voice in several years and her last
two years were spent exclusively in the nursing home bed with a feeding tube
and bad TV for when she was actually awake. I didn’t visit as often as I probably
should have because it was so hard to see her; until the last year or so, she
would cry violently at random times and I hated to think that I was stirring up
bad memories or that she had a sudden jolt of consciousness and realized what
condition she was in. She was trapped in her own body and I could only hope
that her mind didn’t let her know how bad it was. The woman I knew would be
mortified to know that people had to change her diaper and that her beautiful
teeth were full of cavities because they just don’t spend time or money on
teeth when they’re trying to keep you alive and out of pain.
In some ways her passing was a relief. She suffered from
Alzheimers and Parkinsons ; the former was diagnosed as dementia back in 2007 or
so because she was “too young” to have Alzheimers. The latter came on slowly
but worked consistently to shut her body down. It’s been a tough week or so for
me to figure things out in my head. Her passing was not a shock but the
finality of it was still hard to take. I look around at other ladies her age,
doting on children and grandchildren, off to bingo or vacationing with their
family and wonder why she couldn’t have that. I think, more than anything, I
mourn the lost opportunity, how things could have been different and better
somehow.
Her life, and our family life, was not easy but I do
remember some good times and happy memories. I’m staring at a picture on my
desk right now that I took from the nursing home on my last visit – by some
beautiful stroke of fate I managed to make the trip up to see her two days
before she passed away.
The picture was taken shortly after my brother died and
I wanted to take her out for a girl’s day. We already knew she was regressing
but she was still functional. We went to get our hair done; the picture was
taken in the salon. That day I also took her to get her very first pedicure.
She didn’t quite know what to do with that and she had ticklish feet so she was giggling the whole time. Oh, and I took her to Starbucks. She didn’t know what
she wanted so I got her a Caramel Latte. She tentatively took a sip and her
face lit up – THIS IS SO GOOD! It is a
happy-sad memory right now but it’s mostly happy.
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