My Mama

I believe in Empathy. But I have found something I think maybe you have to experience yourself in order to see the horror. When I was in my early twenties, a beginning Reading teacher in my first apartment, every Sunday evening I would see my next door neighbor, a man probably the age i am now, standing at his kitchen window above his kitchen sink. All dressed up in a coat and tie, he'd be drinking shots of whiskey. He always visited his mother in the nursing home on Sundays, and this is how he coped with what it did to him. I thought I understood. Silly me.

Early this morning I woke up with an overwhelming desire to see my Mom, to hold her in my arms, to stroke her face, to kiss her cheeks, to tell her how sorry I am for all the time times I let her down and to thank her for never letting me down. The guilt I feel at not being able to take care of her is inutterable.

I hurried straight to the nursing home. There are Christmas trees and wreaths and garlands everywhere, but the first thing that hits you in the face is the smell. I kept telling myself, Hang on, Olfactory fatigue will set in soon and you'll no longer notice. Then there is the heat. The room was around 90 degrees because Mom's roommate has some unspecified problem that makes her need it. Mom's face showed recognition, but she could not tell me who I was, how we are related. She was surprised and delighted to hear that she is "my Mama." She did not know my name. She flashed the biggest smile when I said "Victoria." She liked it. Meanwhile, the other woman talked loudly to Jesus, without stopping, telling him how proud of him she is. A tear fell from Mom's eye.

It's too early for shots of whiskey, and whiskey would kill me instantly anyway. It's Kia's fur, Readmore's purr, the hope of a soul mate to come, the grace of God, and just waiting for the pain to subside.

Here's Mom before she had her 3 falls and Alzheimer's, not that long ago. Here she is in the nursing home in July, amazing how much decline there has been since summer. She has lost 20 more pounds. And the laughter is gone from her eyes. That's the hardest part.