My mother is declining. She is still almost sharp mentally. Physically; not so good. She’s 91. She lives now in Boulder at an Assisted Living facility – the Carillon. It’s nice for her – she can still have a real full apartment that is definitely not nursing home. In the 3 years that she has lived here I have witnessed drastic and dramatic declines in her physical and mental health, her appearance, her attitude on life. I wonder all the time abut her and her process of dying vs living. She is quiet about it, and does not really want to share her thoughts. She never has. There is not much that she wants to do anymore. She reads the New York Times cover to cover. She stays in her lovely apartment, Her ‘friends’ are now mainly the aides that come in daily to help her get dressed and assist her with daily life. Her life is getting smaller and smaller around her. I would love her to get out more. But – I’m not even sure if she wants to get out.
And, it’s hard –
I can’t really handle her wheel chair alone and it’s very difficult to see her sometimes through this process. I’m witnessing her live her life—-> actively living vs actively dying. Update – I have seen a major decline in her mental capacities. She is losing interest in most of life.
A great book that I re-visit from time to time is Being Mortal by Atul Gawande.
My mother never was very physical in her younger years. She always said that she exercised her brain – not her body. She never liked to sweat. I now know how important mind/body connection is. I have learned many things watching her age – most importantly NEVER STOP MOVING. At a certain point – what you don’t use ; you really loose…. and at a certain age it is impossible to get it back.
My mother taught my sister and me her philosophy of ‘More So’.
Details in your life become more so as you age. What you were, what you liked, what you did, what you believed…. become more so.
And I miss my Mom,
the woman who used to enjoy theater, art, NY City, friends. She was a proud woman. The other day I was having lunch at the Carillon with Mom. A woman passed by who was very nicely dressed and made up. Mom saw her and kind of waved. After a few seconds Mom reached into her purse, and took out her compact blush – and applied some on her cheeks. It absolutely made my heart melt. I told her she was beautiful. I will love her forever and think about this single gesture with tears in my eyes. There is still a little bit of Mom in this very old and fragile woman. I find her in there at times.
Our relationship has gone from her being my caretaker to me being hers.
Yes – the Carillon provides for her needs – and keeps her safe… but it’s me that she relies on, it’s me that she depends on to be there for her. I’m stuck in life right now – waiting, waiting… I can’t leave her.
100 Years Five for Fighting….(turn on your sound)