A TRIBUTE TO MOTHER: Her Greatest Gift

Part 4

Over time, as the staff at the nursing home got to know her, a number of the nurses sought her wisdom and direction in their personal and spiritual lives. It was in this place that she would spend the remainder of her life. She knew that. However, she would go to rehab and continue to work hard to be the best she could be. She loved playing bingo, and even after multiple strokes, and her other physical debilitations, she was the domino champion. No, we never “let” her win; she was a fierce competitor and would beat you fair and square.

The drive south to visit my mom [and my dad] is about a four hour round-trip. It was great to have my father close by to tend to Mom’s personal daily needs/desires. I say this because some days Mom would have Dad bring all three meals for the day. She didn’t have much desire to eat and if the food wasn’t really good, she wouldn’t eat at all. My father would bring items from home and make a stop or two along the way for possible nourishment, or better yet, chocolate. He also did her laundry daily. My mom had to have enjoyed this part. After years of tending to so many children, as well as my father, I think she might have had him run an errand or two – just because. I never intended to canonize my mother, she was human, and could be a “pistol” as we say in the south. She had a silly side which could seem to come out of nowhere, but was wickedly funny.



The camera never seemed to capture her beauty. I love this photo of her.

All of us [her children] took part in her care at one point or another, but in the end, I would receive the 411 and 911 calls from her medical providers. My brothers and sisters live all across the country, so being the closest geographically that was logical. One morning I received an emotional call from Mother’s nurse that Mom had been taken by ambulance to the hospital, was unresponsive, and was thought to have had a heart attack. She had. The staff knew to never call my father with any news of this sort. Although he was only 10 minutes away, he is elderly and now lived alone. My mother’s brother and his wife live across the street from my dad, so the “drill” was that I would call them, they would drive him and I would be on my way south within minutes. [Mom had told her doctors for years that she felt there was a problem with her heart.] I’d kept a bag packed and by my closet door, I never knew when the call would come.

My husband and I enjoyed our visits with Mom. My mother felt as though I’d won the prize in the husband department, and they shared a bond that was special to them both. I know my mother enjoyed our many visits alone as well [maybe not as well, she was pretty keen on my hubby]. When we embraced, I would breathe in her incredible aroma. All of my life, I remember how wonderful she always smelled. She didn’t really need perfume, although she enjoyed it greatly. She would have to look me over, usually tell me how “cute” I looked, [or not, anybody with a mother understands this] “darling haircut” she’d sometimes say, and “shoes, please”, then I would show her what shoes I was wearing. The shoes were almost always a home run. She enjoyed me wearing the pretty shoes she could no longer wear.

Just before Thanksgiving of 2008, her brother John had to bring her news that shocked and saddened her. Their youngest brother, Billy had died. He was only a few months older than my oldest sister. No one had told my mother about his cancer because he was doing so well, and it was thought he would recover. After a follow-up surgical procedure, he developed a blood clot and he was gone. Mom somehow managed to make the 4+ hour round-trip to her brother’s memorial service. She was heartbroken.

Early in 2009 Mother once again developed pneumonia, and since she had been diagnosed with COPD this was not uncommon. She also started to need blood every few months. Something I need to note is that it annoyed her that medical personnel would speak to us about her, in front of her. She would say, “Excuse me, but I am in the room, would you please talk to me?” Mother rarely missed an opportunity for a teaching moment.