Alert and Chatty

When I opened the door to the Memory Care unit and spotted my mother, I noticed she was smiling at a woman and chatting in a very friendly tone. She sat on the edge of her chair, leaned in, and kept engaged with the other woman. Then, she saw me and yelled out, "Jack." She then introduced me to all of the people around her and said, "This is my son. This is my son." We embraced and greeted one another and started to catch up.

I then felt a tap on my shoulders. A man whose wife is in the Memory Care unit wanted to speak with me. He is a building contractor in the Blackstone Valley and we knew of each other when I lived in Douglas. We have been corresponding about faith, which has helped him be patient with his wife's illness. We thanked each other and had a nice time talking about his life and his current situation. I'm very edified by the continual patient care he gives his wife. I'm filled with admiration.

After we parted, I returned to my mother and I showed her some pizzelles, an Italian cookie made with anise flavoring. These are her favorite cookies and we grew up eating them. Grandma always used to make them. She told me that sometimes she would stop by her mother's house and grandma would make a stack of pizzelles for the family, but my mother said, "I would eat them on the way home. I knew I should have saved some for the family, but I couldn't bring just a few back for so many children."

Afterwards, I brought out the Hershey Drops. "If you leave them in front of me, I won't be able to stop eating them. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I scream out, 'Does anyone have any chocolate?'"

(The attached photo shows both pizzelles and Hershey Drops - wearing my hat.)

We prayed and shared communion. As we concluded the prayers, I asked, "And what would you like to pray for?"

I pray for the health and happiness of the family, that we can all be happy together.
I pray that we can be even happier.
I pray that I could have done a better job by doing things for all of you.
I pray that my legs don't hurt anymore.
I pray that everyone here has better health.

As we concluded our prayers, I asked about her legs and she said, "I need them massaged. They hurt so much." So I held them but it was too painful for her to raise them even four inches off the ground. Massaging them gently, she would say, "That feels good. Now it hurts. Now it feels good.  Oooh. Aaah." She said, "I think my sister Betty also had pain in her legs. I think she broke her leg a while ago."

We talked about her Ma and Pa. She said, "Pa died years ago. Did you know him?" "I did not know him. I think he died in 1961 or so." "Yes, that is right." "He would look at me with sad eyes because I was not as happy at Betty or Nancy, but I was OK and he knew it. He knew I looked after Doris and Johnny and made them feel better when they were teased. We were all kind of the same. We didn't fit in, but we took care of one another. I just had to do it my own way."

We spoke about Rich, whose birthday was yesterday, and Dawn Mari, whose birthday is coming up. If she were alive, she would be 61 this year. "I miss her so much and we had a hard life, but it made me happy. I wouldn't have had it any other way. We share much love together and she taught us a lot."

We talked death. She said she's not ready, but I think about it sometime. I replied, "That's OK. It is natural and it is positive to think about it. It helps prepare us for when we decide to go. You think about it as much as you need.

Then she said, "You must have to go to work." I said, "I do." "You be on your way then. I know you'll come back soon." Then in mid-sentence, she immediately began to nap. I gently woke her to let her know I would go to work; she gave me a hug and a kiss goodbye, and then rested her eyes in a comfortable nap.