I'm normally off on Mondays, and so, every weekend after Dad died, I drove north to Mom's house on Saturday – packed, packed, packed her belongings – and then returned home on Monday. We had three weekends to dispose of 30 years' worth of accumulated tchotchkes, family heirlooms, photos, and everything else.
With no time to hold a yard or estate sale, we instead hauled box after box of stuff to Goodwill. Forty-two boxes of books alone went to the charity. We joked that Mom's contributions would keep the local Goodwill afloat for at least six months. The joke rang hollow for Mom, though; it broke her heart to see so many of her cherished items given away. To help ease her pain, my sister, brother, and I took many items we didn't necessarily want, but Mom felt it important they be kept in the family.
Condensing the accumulated detritus of 30 years and 2,500 square feet into furnishings that would fit into a 1,400 square foot town home proved challenging, but we were able to get it done. On my next-to-last visit to the family home, Mom and I sat in the living room, surrounded by boxes labeled 'kitchen' and 'FRAGILE – china cabinet.' I gazed out the huge glass windows toward the mountains, determined to burn the view into my memory forever, as I knew soon I'd never set foot in that room again.
As the time approached on Monday for me to hit the road for home, Mom decided to run a bank errand. That gave me precious time alone in the house. For 20 minutes, I roamed from room to room, savoring the memories: Dad and I moving the original washer and dryer into the basement in 1979; Mom and I frying Christmas donuts in the cramped kitchen. Then I walked outside into the dewy, overgrown yard. I said goodbye to Snickers, the beloved family cat buried (illegally) in a corner of the backyard. I stood looking up at the house, remembering the summer I turned 20, when Dad and I installed the rain gutters ourselves.
And then, before memories overwhelmed me, I climbed into the car and headed south.
In northern New Mexico, where the Great Plains sweep up against the tail end of the Rocky Mountains, radio reception grows static-y. I didn't feel like playing any CDs, so I drove in silence. And then the strains of a Beatles song streamed into my head.
Words are flowing out
like endless rain into a paper cup.
I thought of all the things I wished I'd been able to say to Dad: Things like how much I appreciated his guidance. How he taught through example the importance of sticking to your principles. I love you, Dad, I whispered. You inspire me. You will always inspire me. Thank you. For everything.
Limitless, undying love which
shines around me like a million suns
It calls me on and on across the universe.
I hurtled across the prairie, feeling alone yet not alone, eyes bright with tears.
I'm amazed at all these people who have their parents and other relatives with Alzheimers living at home and don't find it too terrible. I have my mother living with me and I am nearly out of my mind. She has a number of obsessions, the worst one with her cats. When she moved here I had to take both her cats and I already had three. My cats live on the back veranda as that confines any mess to an area that's easy to clean. I can't have Mum's 14 year old cat in the main area of the house because when it wants to 'go', it just goes where it is standing, due to its age. Mum has managed to take the cat into her bedroom quite a few times and now the carpet needs tearing up and throwing away, it's that bad. Of course I'm wasting my time telling her the cat is dirty and can't come in, so I have to lock the door between the house and the veranda. This makes her very angry and combative and I am not very good at distracting her. I unlock it in the daytime, of course, and she goes out there and sits with the cat most of the day. But during the night, she's awake most of the night shouting at me that I'm cruel to cats and desperately shaking at the door and window to try and get to the cats. She's tried to break the window and she's tried to ring the police. If she hears rain on the roof, she'll suddenly wake up, even at 2 a.m., and go screaming up the hallway shouting "It's raining, quick, help me save the cats!" She cannot grasp that the veranda is part of the house and has a roof to keep out rain. She doesn't like me any more - she's constantly telling me she hates me because I won't let her have her cat in the bedroom and I won't let her give it food all day long. That's another obsession of hers, cat food. I feed the cats twice a day and lock the food away from her. So if she manages to stop obsessing about the cats being on the veranda and not in her room, she'll demand that I give her the cat food because they are 'starving' and I am trying to kill them. My life is absolute hell, and all these people who say it's wonderful looking after your elderly parents have me shaking my head and wondering what I'm missing.
I thank you deeply for sharing your experience caring for your Dad. My husband is 101 years old, a retired physician who also has vascular dementia and a weakening heart. I am 24 years younger than he is so I am able to keep him at home with the help of home health aides and Hospice. It was very helpful to read of your experiences and feelings which mirror some of my own. It was particularly helpful to read of your mixed feelings of your Dad's death, both your feelings of loss and of relief. My husband has been in Hospice care at home for 13 months (and longer before we had Hospice) and my feelings are similarly conflicted. I both yearn for his passing and dread his being gone. I think, as a nation, we have to have a serious dialogue about how our elderly can receive care without it decimating our children and spouses. As more of us age, longer and longer, without quality of life, the toll is great on those who love and care for us. You stepped up to the plate with your Dad. Your voice adds immeasurably to our understanding of the problems of a medical system that prolongs life without providing resources to care for those who can no longer care for themselves. Now we need to seek solutions. Thank you so much for sharing with us and helping to focus a light on the problems we face as individuals and as a nation.
Beautifully written; thank you for sharing your thoughts and experiences.
Continuing to keep you in prayer, Elizabeth. The "stuff" is hard. I didn't realize how important it would be to me when Mom died , because I didn't think I'd be as attached to the stuff as other people I've seen go through similar experiences. Death changes things, makes you realize things about yourself that you didn't know before. I've been surprised by which things are the hardest to deal with or let go of. But, in the end, it is "stuff " and it helps me to remind myself of that. Now Dad has had to move his business on short notice, relocating to new quarters that are half the size of the old. So he, too, has been going through the whole moving thing. Fewer personal articles are involved, but it's been so hard for him so soon after Mom's death just three months ago. Blessings to you and your family today!
Nothing I can really add to the remarks already made except to confirm them and add my own prayers for you and your family.
I can feel for you, hopefully you will find some solice...however it may not be soon, I am still looking after 9 years! GOD BLESS
Oh, Elizabeth...you have so many sad things going on in your life right now. How hard this all must be for you! Its really tough watching your childhood memories being boxed up and moved, or given to charity. Your memory of these times will be there with you always, though. You know this move is the right thing for your mother now. She needs to be cared for now and she couldn't continue to live in that house by herself. I can remember moving my mother-in-law from her home that she had lived in for 40 years to a senior living facility. It was very difficult for her and for her children, as well. However, she too had reached a point where she really couldn't take care of an entire house by herself anymore. Although she was very sad about the move, she was so excited with what the retirement community had to offer for her! She really shined there! So, even though she was going through the beginning of Alzheimer's, the move was perfect for her...just as I am sure this move will be great for your mother!! As for the things you wish you had said to your father...Elizabeth.. do you really think he didn't know how much you cared for him? How much you loved and appreciated him?? If he didn't know before, I am positive he knows now!! You can talk to him...as you did on your drive...he will hear you and know all those things you wanted to say. Do not worry about what you didn't get to say...you told him you loved him and that said it all for him! :) Take care of yourself through this, Elizabeth. My prayers and thoughts are still with you! {{{hugs}}}