in which Things Keep Happening

Right, so, where were we?

My mother died two months ago. This is good news in that her passing was peaceful and lovingly attended, she is finally free of dementia, and perhaps, if you believe in such things, reunited with my dad. It also means moving on, emotionally. Lots to process. 

Robin loves film school at NYU, has a very cool summer internship, moved to an East Village walkup, and the world is basically her oyster. Summer in New York being what it is, it probably smells like an oyster a lot of the time too. I'll say this for Cape Cod: as gross as summer gets here, it's grosser everywhere else. 

Josie wrapped up high school like a boss and will head to the University of Rochester next month to major in Physics and Astronomy. In the meantime she's working in a lab down the hall from Aaron's, so they commute together. 

I'm gleefully tuning out of all things school-related. Remove! Delete! Unsubscribe! Gonna merge the middle and high schools, you say? Go right ahead! Settle right back into that well-worn comfort zone people call "pretty good." Nobody wants our schools to be average, but it sure looks like nobody cares if they're not outstanding, either. So be it.

I just left my job as assistant to an older lady I thought very highly of indeed, because her family were stealing from her and generally treating her so badly I just couldn't be around it any more. The only thing that felt worse than leaving would have been staying. Heartbreaking.

So, lots of chapters ending, new ones waiting to be written. How do you decide what to do with the rest of your life? 

Mother's Day

Thinking about starting this new blog, I spent some time rereading the last one, in which I wrote about caring for my parents before my father died, and moving my mother into memory care assisted living. Any one of those entries is a decent snapshot into how things were; reading them all at once was overwhelming. Like the proverbial frog in boiling water, I didn't notice how awful things were becoming. I just kept dealing with one more thing, one more thing, one more thing, because that's what you do. 

We are doing elder care all wrong, in this country. The "system," to the extent there is one, is just awful.

Anyway. For those playing along at home, Mom is still in memory care. She has declined to the point beyond ever again being able to come visit my house, which we used to do weekly before COVID. She's in hospice, not in a dying-any-minute way like it was with Dad, but just shifting the priorities in her care. There is no cure for Lewy Body Dementia anyway. Whatever else might take her would be a mercy. A doctor friend calls pneumonia "God's off-ramp." We should be so lucky.

On a recent visit with Robin, my mother greeted her as if she were me, then looking over at me, asked "who'd you bring?" On another, with my brother, she greeted me as me, and kept asking him when he was going to propose ("it's not really in the plan"). "I don't know about this new boyfriend," she said as we stood up to leave. "OH! He looks just like Rick!" Exactly like him, in fact. 

Knowing what's knowable about her illness, we thought we were prepared for the inevitable day she would not recognize us as her grown children, and that it wouldn't bother us when it happened. Neither of those things turned out to be true.