Holiday

Traditional days become even more of an emotional juggling bout with each phase of life, but this year it seems all I do is push my emotions away.  It's Thanksgiving and I'm stuffing.  Literally.  

Last night I dreamed my brother called me out from the pulpit at our mother's funeral.  He ranted that I abandoned her and shoved her into a nursing home so other people could deal with her because I never cared about her and I'm the reason she's dead.  I sat, ice cold, waiting for someone to stop him, but knowing it was all true.  True enough, anyway.  

My mother needs one-on-one care, and Assisted Living doesn't provide that.  She's been that way for a while, but I was hoping we'd get by in a place where there is much bustle and traffic to keep her short term memory occupied.  She has won the "Perfect Attendance" award for morning and afternoon activities, never missing a game of Bingo, crafting session, or a sing-along.  But she's going into the homes of other residents -- helping herself to their things, sitting in their spaces and refusing to leave.  She's making decisions on behalf of strangers, and attempting to enforce her decisions.  And every correction/redirection by the staff is a call to arms -- the presentation of a hill on which my mother is prepared to make her last stand.  So, residents are fearful; staff has to call for back-up.  Eventually they will need to notify the police and she will be removed to the hospital for an emergency psychiatric evaluation.  At that point, she will be ineligible to return to her little studio apartment with the carpeted floor, kitchenette and curio case of collectibles.

I know this eventuality is imminent because they call me every day, although I am out-of-state meeting a new baby and they make a point to congratulate me while giving me the devastating news.  I can't do anything until I'm back in three days, and I don't know what I will do.  The next place, my mother's new home, will bring more loss to her personal dignity and quality of life.  One-on-one caregivers will not know how much she needs things to be done exactly the way she wants them done -- and they won't be indulgent about her particular tastes.  They certainly won't feel tolerant of her acerbic wit and sarcastic defensiveness.  My mother can be difficult and she has challenged me my whole life, but I want better than this for her.  I want better than this for me.  

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and she spent it with a family member.  I called to wish her a happy day, and her phone went to voicemail.  At midnight she called back, unaware of the time, but returning my holiday greetings.  The follow-up text, peppered with emojis, kept me awake for hours.

"Love & [kissing face] Happy Days for each Day  ...from now [kissing face] [double heart] until the END OF THIS YEAR TOO!! 

[whirling heart]"