A very recent spin on family tradition is for the whole, small Sloat clan to assemble at our house on a day we agree on, but it's never been on December 25. Our place works because mom can get inside without negotiating steps.
And, as it turns out, it always been on a Sunday in the morning, though there's no definite reason it'd have to be a Sunday. Needless to say, none of us darkened the door of a church.
Matching who we are, it's a silly time.
We play silly games and eat brunch-like food.
Sadly, we've all agreed that this will be the last time we do this.
Evie called the home in the morning to let the nurses know we'd be taking mom away and bringing her back.
The nurse Evie talked to said, "Well, put coal in her stocking. She's been naughty today."
Evie didn't ask for specifics but we're certain that mom was anxious about the disruption in her routine.
It's clear that mom's Alzheimer's is advancing.
When she walked through our door, she looked around and said, "My, this is nice," as if she's never been here before.
She seemed a bit dazed and disoriented and declared that she was ready to leave long before the time we all expected to break up the gathering.
After my brother and his wife took her back to the home, they texted and said that they don't think she should ever be taken from the home again. We'd already been thinking that ourselves.
That's sad.
In some ways, her mind's still good. She reads voraciously, novels by authors I'd read: old John Grishams and Clive Cusslers, Michael Connelly...
But she's never really all there.
Her memory is very poor.
She has osteoporosis that has left her with a broken and a crushed vertebrae from earlier falls.
I'm expecting that some day she'll fall again and break a hip or some ribs and never really recover.
It was a year and two weeks ago that dad died. He went peacefully and sweetly.
Mom could hold on for years, who knows? But, I'm not counting on it.
Sunday was bittersweet.
No comments:
Post a Comment