A good day...

I took the day off yesterday to hang out with Mom.  I didn't feel compelled to take her anywhere (the doctor, a haircut). I brought one of her (and my) favorite funny movies “Mrs. Doubtfire” with Robin Williams.  There were many funny scenes, but we both laughed so hard we cried when Mrs. Doubtfire (Robin Williams dressed up like an elderly dowager) was vacuuming, dancing to “Dude Looks Like a Lady”.

Later we had lunch in the dining room and sat in a circular table with Mom’s friends.  Mom introduced me to them: “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Julie” even though I had known them for at least a year.  It was okay though, since they just smiled and said that it was nice to meet me.  Some had dementia like Mom, so they felt this was the first time we’d met.  Others remembered me, so they just politely nodded with a slight smile. Many words were forgotten by Mom over a lunch of chicken salad. She either replaced the lost word with one that was top of mind or just left it out. I’ve gotten used to this as well as the slower cadence of her speech. If she is reminded of her difficulties with word finding she becomes frustrated and more words disappear. It is best to just nod and smile.

After lunch we took a walk around the circular facility.  Mom pointed out various rooms (laundry, activity, mail room).  I have been by these rooms more times than I can count over the last year and a half, but that is okay.  Mom does not remember this, so it is best to incorporate myself into her world and see these things for the first time. I most act in the manner of a first-time visitor.

We talked as we walked. Mom is now using a rolling walker.  She has pink and white flowers on the left side handle, so she may distinguish her walker from others. Mom gets along fairly well with this walking aid, yet it is clear that age and her dementia are impacting her mentally as well as physically. 

I often find a sudden sadness when I focus on things such as this.  I make sure I cover it up when I am with Mom though.  It is better to hide these feelings and wait until the drive home.  Sometimes I let myself cry.  Sometimes I become angry that I am slowly losing my mother to this disease.  I remind myself that I must focus on the present and be mindful that she still is able to recognize the people most close to her. She is able to call us if she needs us (I have written our phone numbers in a large print book as she cannot remember them).  I've also written our birthdays and her wedding anniversary dates down, so she may refer to them as needed. I was saddened when I realized Mom was at this point, yet I forced myself to to me mindful and focus on the present. 

As we were sitting in Mom’s apartment after the walk, I noticed that when she tires, she struggles more with her word finding.  Despite this she was able to talk a bit about her future with me. She asked me how she was supposed to fill the rest of her days.  I thought about how to answer this question.  I needed to be supportive yet truthful.  I told her that she should perhaps live day to day.  I told her that the question of how to spend the rest of our days was one we all struggled with.  When we are younger it seems that life will last an eternity.  When we get older (perhaps in middle age) we become acutely aware of time passing.  It seems to do so much quicker.  I have felt a bit of a panic as I am now 55. I too struggle with this question: “How do I spend the rest of my days?”.

I will soon be an empty nester as my son, Quentin (Q) , will be graduating from college and entering the military.  At that time, I will be free to live my life as I see fit.  Do I move, or do I stay here? Do I do contract work or obtain a full-time position?  Do I work in the helping profession (I am a social worker and a psychologist) or do I change career paths (I will have earned my master’s degree in human resources by the time Q graduates)? Having choices is good, yet it can also evoke anxiety and worry.

Back to Mom and the day hanging out.  We had some ice cream as the night approached (Blue Bell homemade vanilla is her favorite).  I turned on her lamps and closed her blinds. I turned down her bedding and fluffed her pillows. (I had always wanted to do this). It was getting late.  We both were tired, yet in a happy way. I gave Mom a kiss on the cheek and smoothed her hair.  It was a good day.

The path...

Life is funny that way. It can be a bit unexpected.  It is that moment when you decide to walk away; to follow a different path.  Suddenly you come to the realization. You will never look back.

Swaglord...

I had some time on the road today as I had to drive to Fort Worth to do a consultation. Randomly, "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash came on. I didn't appreciate Johnny when I was younger, but now I realize he was a real swaglord.

Brief moments and gratitude…

I ran some ice cream over to Mom yesterday and noticed my car was out of windshield wiper fluid. When I was returning home, I stopped into AutoZone to buy some as the dealership was closed. A young man helped me pick it out and offered to put it in my car despite the 101-degree heat.  We chatted as he did this, and I asked him how his day was going. He replied, “It’s going well.  I've been dealing with cancer, but I've been given another day. Life is good.”  I gave him quick hug and said thank you.  It’s uncanny how these moments and people come into our lives, however briefly, to remind us to be grateful.

saudade...

Last week I read a book by Portuguese writer Manuel de Melo.  In it he used the word, “saudade”, which after many google searches I found means “a pleasure you suffer, and ailment you enjoy.” Saudade is described as “the love that remains" after someone is gone. Saudade is the recollection of feelings, experiences, places, or events that once brought excitement, pleasure, well-being, which now triggers the senses and makes one live again. It can be described as an emptiness, like someone (e.g., one's children, parents, sibling, grandparents, friends, pets) or something (e.g., places, things one used to do in childhood, or other activities performed in the past) that should be there in a particular moment is missing, and the individual feels this absence. It brings sad and happy feelings altogether, sadness for missing and happiness for having experienced the feeling.

I have  been turning the idea of saudade over in my mind for the last few days.  Of how missing a person who is no longer here can bring a feeling of both sadness and joy.  You miss this person, yet somehow feel a lightness, a bit of joy, recalling times that you shared together. Those times spent together laughing at a shared joke or an idle conversation. Those times spent together could also be shared in a companionable silence, as you both sat side by side, reading books which described far away travels.

These times may never occur again, and for that, there is a melancholy, a sadness at the knowing that these times were a once in in a life circumstance. Saudade is therefore a pleasure you may suffer, and an ailment you enjoy.

The Hesitant Texan…

I am uncertain as to the origin of my hesitancy in becoming a Texan.  I have lived here 30 years in various Texas cities and towns, both large and small: Galveston after completion of grad school, Wichita Falls and Big Spring while employed with the State. The bulk of my time has been in the Dallas vicinity (we Texans refer to it as “DFW” or “the metroplex.”).

Prior to relocating to Texas, I admittedly perceived Texas to be one enormous desert with tumbleweed blowing across the road. A place where everyone drove a pick up and every woman had big blond hair.  I had heard that it is so hot in Texas summers you could literally fry an egg on the sidewalk.  I envisioned a lot of guns, and oil wells dotting the land. I saw Texas as a place where people were a bit too loud and a bit too proud.

Now, having lived in Texas longer than anywhere else, I must say that there is a kernel of truth to these perceptions. The “Everything is bigger in Texas” is more fact than fiction:

1.   The State of Texas is close to the geographic size of Europe.

2. Texas is the second largest state in the U.S. (Alaska wins this distinction). 

3.  Texas became its own country for 9 years when it seceded from the United States (1836-1845).

4   Although chili has the distinction of being the state food of Texas, I am certain BBQ is a close number two.

5.  There are oil wells (mostly in west Texas) and it seems that nearly every Texan owns at least one gun.

Here’s the thing though, for better or worse, I do consider myself a Texan. I don’t own a pick up or a gun, although more family and friends do than do not. I have had tumbleweed get stuck in the grill of my car while traveling in Texas. It does seem that 4 out of 5 women you see are blonds (having auburn hair makes me stand out a bit, so I can’t complain).  I love BBQ and the fact that Texas offers so many varieties. And admittedly it isn't just hot in the summers, it is scalding hot. Fortunately, we do have air conditioning (a large portion is now solar, and wind generated).

I knew I had become, a bit hesitantly, a true Texan a few years back.  I had gone on a road trip and upon my return crossed the Texas state line.  It was dusk, and the sky was a vivid magenta, carrot orange and indigo blue. There was an enormous sign that read “Welcome to Texas.  Drive friendly, the Texas way.”  I never knew I was homesick for Texas until I saw that sunset, those wide-open spaces and that sign that welcomed all who entered.