The Long Goodbye
My mom is 83 years old. She broke her ankle two years ago, she tripped on something, I forget what, and after that she refused to walk any more. She didn't say why -- it is her custom not to explain much of anything -- so everyone just assumed she was scared she'd fall and do it again.
All that not-walking she did caused her leg muscles to atrophy, and now she's bedridden. And stubborn as a mule -- a mostly-deaf mule with congestive heart failure, some mild dementia, and an arm made useless by a minor stroke last spring. Despite all that she is as sweet as the day is long unless you try to clip her nails, or roll her over to change her sheets, or try to tell her for the twenty-fifth time that no, we don't need to open the garage door for Dad, he's dead.
She's got one of those air-powered pressure pads underneath her so she doesn't get bedsores. Sometimes she asks for ice cream for breakfast, and then she chuckles when you say no -- like you caught her, you figured out her mischievous little ruse, ha ha ha, what will she do next, explode?!
My oldest brother, Chris, lives at home with her and is her full-time caretaker. This is not an ideal situation for a 55-year-old man who'd rather have a life, or at the very least a girlfriend, but he's doing it. People from hospice rotate through nearly every day -- a nurse twice a week; someone to wash her twice a week; a lady who does Reiki, of all things; a specialist for her delicate, bloody toenails; and some sort of pastor who shows up once a month to bother her and Chris about God. My other brother, Tim, comes almost every night -- a 40-minute drive across town for him, sometimes twice a day on weekends -- to give Chris a hand.
So when I show up for a week every three or four months and people say, "Oh, you're such a good daughter," I refuse to accept the compliment. Not out of some false modesty, but because I'm not the good one, I'm not in the trenches every day like my brothers are. I'm good enough, I guess, but living 1,000 miles away what happens is I show up for a week every three or four months, spend my first three days trying to unclench Chris's grip from his routine, spend my last four days actually being useful, and then fly home again.
If my mom's will was written with all this in mind, Chris would get all her dollars, Tim would get the house, and I'd get to clean out my room. Look at all these books I finally packed up and shipped to myself, twenty-two years after leaving home for good! Sheesh.
Anyway, one morning back when I was there a few weeks ago, my mom got kind of agitated. She made some noise about wanting fresh water at 3:00 a.m. so Chris got up and gave it to her. Then around 5:45 it was my turn. I hadn't gotten to sleep until about 1:00 a.m. because I was busy humoring the ghosts, but I went in and sat down next to her bed and said, "Hi. What can I can do for you?"
She needed her sheets and diaper changed, badly, but it's a two-person job so I needed to wait for Chris to help me. Since he'd already been up at 3, and since this was his week to sleep in, I needed to keep my mom distracted from plucking at the sheets and getting the mess in her bed all over her hands.
"What should we talk about?"
"Family!"
My mom has no idea who I am. She thinks I'm just some nice lady who comes over every once in awhile to sit and chat. She has clear knowledge and memories of her daughter, Eden, but she doesn't connect that Eden with the woman in the Target men's bathrobe sitting off to her left. Maybe that should bother me more than it does, but it doesn't too much. I can't take it personally. We were never that close anyhow and I'm done mourning that.
What's interesting, though, is that because she doesn't know I'm her daughter, because I'm for all intents and purposes a stranger, she opens up to me in ways she never has before.
So this morning she's feeling chatty and wants to talk "about family." I start running down what I remember of her family and six siblings -- Alfred came first, in 1919, then Joyce, then my mom, then uh, Dave? Carolyn? Jim? (I have it all written down somewhere.) Jeff was last, born in 1944, just as Al was going off to war.
But she keeps bringing the conversation around to this one dance she went to with her sister. My mom is a classic avoider, she can never get straight to what she really wants to say, even with her mind half gone she needs to beat around the bush for fucking ever. But eventually I get that she went to this dance with her sister, but her sister was using my mom as a beard to meet her boyfriend at the dance. And the thing it takes my mom an hour and twenty minutes to admit is that she was attracted to her sister's boyfriend.
"But I was married, so that was that."
I asked her about how she met my dad. I knew the story but I wanted to see if any variations were going to come out with the new honesty I was seeing. Yeah, coming up on sixty years after the fact, it turns out my mom wasn't all that interested in marrying my dad. He wouldn't let up, though. "He was very eager to meet my parents, I don't know why. He was just so eager to get married. I wasn't particularly eager to get married, but he had a good character. I liked his parents. He was a good man." (I guess fifty-odd years of emotional abuse are in the hazy part of her brain pan, which is probably for the best.)
So they got married and, unexpectedly and perhaps somewhat unwillingly, she got pregnant with my brother Chris right away. "Well, you know how men are." And that was that. Whatever hopes and dreams she may have had got folded into her new role as wife and mother.
It took about four hours to get all that out of her.
Actually, I want her copy of "Joy of Cooking," too, mine's trashed.
80 Comments:
Is it OK to say that I'm sorry? That I wish things were different? I never know what to say, but this is such powerful writing that I feel I have to say something.
My other instinct was to squeal, "Katie John!" but that seems insensitive.
This is a wonderful post. Obviously not because of a happy topic, but because of the manner in which you capture such a universal experience of dealing with parent decline. Your writing is of the caliber that the silences and pauses say almost as much as the words you use.
Thanks for sharing.
I love the pictures of all the old books, especially the evolving cook books ( I have the two on the left).
Blessings to your Mom and you and an double one for your brother Chris.
Very touching.
I can't spell the noise I made after reading that.
It's very thought-provoking to be at the beginning of a mother-daughter relationship and read about the end of another one.
The silver lining is the honesty with which she talks to you because she's not sure who you are. The end of a lifespan always brings new stories with it.
I am now looking forward, or maybe dreading, the things i will learn when/if my mother forgets who i am.
I caught your blog through a friend's link a few months ago and have been reading you with regularity. This post today? Totally hit home. My mom didn't recognize me as her daughter, Tracy, in her dementia but as someone named Nancy. And living here in Santa Barbara, it was a bi monthly trip I made for 2 months before she passed away. My brother and dad took care of her in the house I grew up in up in Sacramento. My mom also was not in this time in her mind but back when was a twentysomething. She and I often talked through the night about the parties she was attending, the drinks, the dancing. I am just so glad that even though she didn't know me, she was such a pleasant person to be around!! My heart goes out to you and your brothers but I hear your sense of humor in the post. It's really the only way to survive it. :)
heartbreaking and beautiful. Thank you for sharing it here with us.
Wow, incredibly moving and honest post. I think stories like this are why, as I age, I appreciate nonfiction so much more. And Watership Down is one of my all-time favorite books.
I loved this. I loved reading it. I didn't want it to end.
I have quite a few of those books on our shelves and it's been a great source of pleasure this summer to see my soon to be a 4th grade daughter enjoying them.
The way you write about this experience makes me want to be more patient with my mother, to appreciate who she is, instead of who she is not. This may require me to be who I am not, but you know, I need goals.
it is so odd that we have to pry and coax out details of our mothers' lives and feelings. my mom was like that too. i am currently sitting here with my baby son on my lap, and i am promising myself i won't withhold myself from him like that.
oh, and i agree with holly: i didn't want this post to end.
Wow. That is a beautiful, powerful post. Thank you for sharing your experiences with us; so many of us will be there soon. I hope to handle it with the grace you and your brothers do.
But, um, why can't she have ice-cream for breakfast?
My only advice...let her have the ice cream. That's all my dad would eat for his last week on earth: Wendy's Frosties.
We went through a similar experience with our mother which was difficult for me because my relationship with Mom had been very strained and unpleasant. It sounds like you're going through something similar. It's been five years since we lost her and I'm still working through a lot of resentments. You're in my thoughts. I wish you and your sibs and your mom whatever is best for all of you in this.
By the way, I remember LOVING Earth Abides. I'll have to dig out my copy...
Tina
http://www.thebiggertheyget.com
thanks for this. you must be a good sharer.
Can I just leave a blank comment? Just to let you know I was here, and I read this? Because, I'm speechless...and lady, that doesn't happen very often.
This post was so honest. I loved it. I live 1000 miles away too. My parents are still healthy, but getting on in age. It's now at the point when I leave after visiting, I pray that nothing happens before I get back again. It's difficult being far away.
Let her have the ice cream. I regret not making my mom a drink during her last few weeks because it might cause a problem with the medication she was taking. What was it going to do, kill her? Nope. That was going to happen no matter what we did. Give her what she wants. Skip those regrets, anyway.
Thanks, guys.
Ice cream is for dessert! That's what I tell her, anyway, when I give it to her after lunch and dinner. Chris is more of a "give her whatever she wants, she's old" kind of guy, which is good. Peanut butter cookies for everyone!
I just wanted to say that the way you write about these things you've gone through with your parents & are going through still are heartbreaking and heartwarming at the same time. I don't know how you strike such a perfect balance in your writing, but you do.
Jules
House of Jules
I have to agree with all above me - this is a fantastic piece of writing and a truly beautiful, heartbreaking story. Thanks for sharing - it can't have been easy.
Great post. Really.
I really loved reading this, just when I was ready to "turn the page" to see what happens next, it ended. great great post
Awesome post. It's good to remind ourselves of how people change through the years.
My other thought was, "OMG! You have the Great Brain! You have the Great Brain books!" Do you have the whole set? Or just the first one? I love those books. *sigh*
Eden, I went through a very similar time with my mom - she was bedridden for a year with no outside support until the afternoon before she died that evening. I learned more about my parent's imperfect marriage than I cared to. My dad was the only caregiver and very resentful. I lived 1000 miles away and did a similar routine. My brother was in town, but couldn't help my dad much.
All this to say - I am so sorry - I know how it is to worried and tired about it all the time.
What a perfect post for an imperfectly beautiful mother/daughter relationship. Love love love your writing.
Hey, you look like Junie Moon. Have you ever given thought to accessorizing with a monarch?
That your brothers are clearly dutiful and awesome sons in no way makes you a less good daughter, you know. Four hours to get a story is to be lauded.
Wow Eden. Great post.
And "The Great Brain"! What a flashback. Loved those books.
I worry that my mother will be in a similar state when she's 83. She's around 75, still in good physical health, but her dementia is getting worse.
I had some of those same books, in the same editions, growing up. They may still be at my mother's house, now that I think of it.
Great post. I know it probably wasn't an easy one to write for you, but it was very well written.
My mom went through the same kind of thing with her mom before she died. My grandma thought I was her daughter and that my mom was just a stranger. Consequently, all kinds of secrets about her marriage and the kids came out. Very interesting--it gives you a different insight into the person you've only really known in one capacity your whole life.
Also? Deenie was pretty much my favorite book ever growing up.
But... why can't she have ice cream for breakfast!??? :)
Sometimes when the kids were little I'd surprise them and fix them vanilla ice cream with Cheerios sprinkled over. It is TOO just like milk! LOL.
As for the revelation about not really wanting to marry your Dad - we found out the same thing about my MIL. She was dating a dentist. She wanted kids, he didn't. They broke up. She was already in her 30's and married my FIL on the rebound. That explains a lot of things actually..........
I was pretty speechless too, shockingly enough. I think it's wonderful that you have brothers who are close who can do it - the things that more typically fall to the daughter. I am an only child and thankfully (knocking on wood) my parents are healthy and I am not in your shoes.
I think ice cream for breakfast and pancakes for dinner are ok at any age.
Those books are great - my daughter is reading some of those now...and to have your mom's cookbooks will bring you joy when you open them and see the food stains and the recipes she made when you were young. I have my grandma's books and recipe box and her mixing bowls and I always think of her when I use them. Even though she was an old bat and mean to me at the end....her blueberry muffins make me smile and I wonder if she'd like me now.
I can totally relate to your post. I've had the same experience with my mother during her dementia, but I always wonder about the accuracy of what she says. She spun this long yarn to her sister (who she also doesn't recognize) about being married to this young man they had grown up with - but it never happened. I guess dementia is as different as the people who have it - so who knows really. You and your brothers are good souls and I wish you all strength and peace.
I just want to thank you for sharing this. I don't think we ever want to believe that we are at an age where we have to deal with our parents getting older.
My parents are only in their late 60s, but I watched them age twenty years when my nephew was killed by a car bomb in Iraq August of 2005. Their future care had been weighing heavily on my mind and when the time comes, I'm not sure how I'll make the right decisions.
You are a good woman Eden.
Keep calm and carry on.
what a beautiful post. i'm sorry you have to go through this.
my mother still knows who i am, but she has completely forgotten my childhood, and she's not always sure which husband she's married to.
it can be funny, but also hard to watch.
This really spoke to me. My mother has Alzheimer's and I already lost my father to Alzheimer's. My mother doesn't know who I am either. I only wish she were able to tell me stories because I would write them down.
My mother seems pretty happy though and if she's okay, I'm okay.
Lovely piece.
My grandfather had heart-disease-related dementia, and he stayed his same sweet self but didn't know any of us. I ended up just ignoring that he didn't know who I was because he was still just as happy and kind as if he HAD known that his only grandchild was visiting. I am feeling you totally.
Yeah.
My grandmother is dying, pretty much as I type. I'm headed up there for her 98th birthday on Saturday, assuming the guest of honor will still be there. I've gotten so many great stories out of her in the last year or so. I know this sounds stupid to anyone whose family doesn't live to freaky ages like we tend to but I really thought I had time to get some more.
My first thought was to give your mom the ice cream, too, but it sounds like she gets a little kick out of the game. Since Chris gives her what she wants the game might be a better gift from you.
You're a good daughter.
Mmmmmmmm! "Earth Abides!" I love that book.
Heh. We're definitely the same age -- I had a number of those books in the same printing ... "Earth Abides," yes!
Oh my...I stumbled across your blog, and I think you've written our family's story. My grandmother is 93, and was living with my uncle until recently. She has very late stages of Alzheimer's, and recognizes no one from the family.
She's 12 hours away from me, so we recently went to see her. She seemed so fragile, so frail, and so completely unaware that she used to be my hero. But at the end of our visit, there was a glimpse of days gone by when I asked her if she thought we could drink some coffee and dance around the activity room. She looked at me, shook her head, and laughed out loud. And my heart is still smiling because of it.
Thank you so much for sharing your story. I can't wait to come back and read more!
~sass
I relate to this surprisingly well. I'm not particularly close to my mother, so I get that part, but I'm the ONLY child within 700 miles - and my mother is extremely healthy and active.
Maybe it's because I often wish I could have a discussion with her where I'm not me -
Or maybe it's because, I, covet the BH&G cookbook collection in her house - I never really liked Joy of Cooking.
So well written. I don't know how to say the rest. Xo, lady.
Why does a middle aged woman have to use the "F" word when she writes? It belittles those who read your post, makes you look bad, and should be a disgrace to those who advertise on your rag.
Eden, great post. So sorry you're going through this with your mother but glad that you and your brothers are all in this together helping her. Even if you can't be there as often as they can, I know how much they must appreciate the break you give them by coming out.
We're going through much the same thing with my mother-in-law. She had Alzheimer's and had to go into a nursing home in February. My father-in-law goes there every day to help her eat; she's probably at a worse stage than your mother sounds as if she's at. Just want to let you know my thoughts are with you and I can relate.
I'm glad you're getting the opportunity to talk to your mother even though she doesn't really know you are you. I guess what happens is she remembers the child and doesn't recognize the adult. My MIL doesn't seem to realize my husband is her son but she knows she loves him, whoever he is.
Oops, "has" Alzheimer's, not had.
Total, If that's all you choose to focus on in this post, you're missing some great stuff. Go troll elsewhere please.
Thanks, everyone, and thanks for sticking up for me, Kaedra! Sometimes nothing serves better than a well-placed four-letter word. All the tools are in the box for a reason, even the sharp and dangerous ones.
I really fucking liked this post. (I apparently still get to use the word Fuck because I'm not quite middle aged yet.)
beautifully written post. and i love the old covers of the young adult classic books.
What a beautiful post. Every word was perfectly chosen.
I don't really know what to say except I read this post and smiled, and then walked into the other room, and thought about what I had just read, and started to cry.
So beautifully written, Mrs.Kennedy.
This touched upon so many things I went through while my father was dying of cancer. Like you and your mother, my father and I were never close. But his illness allowed us to connect in a way that wasn't possible before. As heartwrenching as it was seeing him deteriorate, I also consider his last year of life a blessing in disguise. Reading your post reminds me of that. Thank you for writing it.
Oh, and one more thing: fuck fuck fuck.
Great post, Eden. You write wonderfully.
God, that was a boring comment. Sorry.
We do not remind my 86 year old mother (also senile dementia) that Dad is dead because each time is just like the first time we told her. Now we just say he's at church, the VFW, the shop, or wherever and tell her she'll see him soon.
I adored this post. It was sentimental but not smarmy. And my mom is just starting down this path, so it also touched my heart.
I love your writing and right now, I love you too. Weird, I know, I get that, seeing you don't know me, but I had to say so because my grandfather is very ill right now and I just want to be with him. But I can't.
But your words make me want to write something similar.
Such a beautiful post. Thank you so much for sharing this.
My other thought was, "Oh my god, Katie John!" I owe my parents a visit -- maybe I can dredge up my Katie John collection, too.
You MUST take that copy of Joy. It has all sorts of good recipes for Shad Roe this and Goose Fat that. Irma's grandson leaves those delicacies out of the latest edition. I keep my grandmother's in the basement for those special times when I want a little rendered goose grease on my toast.
My favorite post so far. A wonderful combination of poignancy and humor.
How very very precious. You will treasure this time, this thing you do every few months. Because it's good, it's hard but it's good.
I'll be the Chris, I have a brother but he's pretty worthless and I'll keep him away for their safety. I would love to have a sister that could come, for a week, to elevate my mood and relieve my burden. Even for a week.
My father passed away earlier this year. I'm dealing with similar feelings of loss and change. Thank you for posting this. You are a brilliant writer!
I've been reading here for years without commenting and, as so many have said above -- this post touched something deep in me and I didn't want it to end.
You wrote about such a difficult, universal topic with such grace and matter-of fact emotion. Lovely and sad all at once.
the old joy of cooking is always better, the newer ones are not working trashing with egg whites or butter/shortening
bummer to hear about your mom, i will trip when i'm an ole man over an empty gin bottle probablly... in the kitchen trying to read my joy of cooking without my specs on!
long live the cook books, especially the joy
chef mike
agh. i just sitting here trying not to cry and smiling like a fool and thinking about my mom and her mother who recently passed away, and how this must have been what their relationship was like at the end.
this post is just all of the bittersweet, heart wrenching bright light that life is. common and sublime. thanks for sharing it this way.
I could emphatically rage and emote for a few screens on how your mom and mine were equally baffling to their children; however I'd rather just say that The Great Brain was the funniest damn book ever back when I was masquerading as Harriet the Spy.
I'm a regular reader but exceedingly rare commenter...but this, like all of your posts about your parents and your visits to the homestead, is breathtaking, and I wanted to say so.
I lost my father in May, to a heart attack that took him out as swiftly and unexpectedly as a sniper's bullet. We were not bitterly estranged, but we had never been close, and one of the things that I'm finding most mystifying in my grief is how we were relative strangers to each other. How many stories disappeared with him? I'll never know...but you were generous enough to share some of yours, at what must surely be a hard, hard time. Thank you for that, Ms. Kennedy.
I can't believe it took me this long to get over here. I mean, I keep hearing about you and have been meaning to and here I am and gosh, I LOVE this and I love your writing and I must go now because I have more of you to read.
Kay bye!
You are so right in naming this post The Long Goodbye. My father is in the end stage of Alz now; he stopped swallowing at the end of July and is now tubed. I am the closest to my mother and dad so I'm the one making the weekly trips (sometimes twice a week) to sit with him, feed him back when we still could, help my mom with finances. The last year has been toughest since he has lost who I am to him, and is really losing what's left of my mother. My sister is 12 hrs away.
Thanks for articulating your story so much better than I could. Take care of yourself...
Fuck, what beautiful writing. I've got a lump in my throat.
Oh, oh, oh.
We are in the same phase of life. I see my folks every day - they are 90 and 83 and slipping a little, especially dad. It hurts my heart to see such proud, independent people lose their bearings and become incapable of doing simple things.
I am glad you can treat your mother's failings with such equanimity. I find myself becoming angry with her passivity, which was always an issue but has become more and more prominent with age. I keep my anger under control when I am with her, but drive away in my car screaming and cursing...
That circle of life thing ain't such a picnic outside of Disney movies.
This post has haunted me all week. I featured it on my Chronicle blog. I hope you don't mind. http://tinyurl.com/6hwlhy
I can totally see how this post could haunt someone...in a good way. The writing was wonderful, the subject poignant and powerful. Great job!
I didn't know what to make of the clip I saw on Jenny's Chronicle blog of your post. I clicked on impulse and was drawn by the pictures. What a journey. You and your brothers are wonderful to your mother--what a charming and strange experience it must have been to sit with her in a room like this and hear her tell this story. Poignant and bittersweet.
Thank you for sharing this with the world and making a Sunday morning all the richer.
That was beautiful and heartbreaking. Thank you.
I love your honesty. Refreshing really. Hearing your mother talk about her family as a stranger must be so...strange! I think I would walk away from those times with lots to reflect on!
I love your honesty. Refreshing really. Hearing your mother talk about her family as a stranger must be so...strange! I think I would walk away from those times with lots to reflect on!
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