After our usual hugs and kisses and the tea had been poured, she quietly told me that she had been thinking and praying about this and she thought it was time for her to move into the nursing home. “I’m not going to get “better,” she quipped, “So I might as well be where I can get the help I need.”
She always made things so easy for us. Many elderly folks resist the care they need, unwilling to make the changes necessary for their safety and their children’s peace of mind. But not her! Just a few years earlier she had moved from the house she had lived in for thirty years, into a small apartment when she realized she couldn’t take care of the house any longer. Now she was letting us know she needed one more, final, change in her living space.
I walked across the street to The Good Samaritan Home to make the arrangements. It was extremely difficult for me. While heading to the main office I walked by a group of silent, drowsy, drooling residents in wheelchairs waiting…for what, I could not tell. My first shock was when I realized I was NOT moving her into a college dorm and then, what about those mute folks? Were they the only friends she had to choose from? Wouldn’t she feel terribly lonely?
When the time came, I got her settled into a temporary room and the grieving began. I called my husband each night and cried. Then my brother got a call and I cried some more. I sobbed with the truth that this was the end. This was the last stop and there was nothing I could do but come along, hold her hand and make sure she was as happy as she could possibly be while visiting her as often as I could.
She settled in well and in her warm sweet way, spread kindness to all who worked with her.
She lived seven months after the move.
My siblings and I miss her so....