People ask me how Mom is, and I usually say, “OK.” That is, she’s hasn’t broken a hip, and she doesn’t have pneumonia or anything, but she’s worse, actually. We’re at another turning point in her decline, and my sister and I confirmed it today talking to the director of Bickford about Mom needing to move back to memory care–or Mary B’s, as it’s known at Bickford facilities. She may make that move soon–since there is an opening–but there’s another person who may need it more. Mom will be next on the list for sure when their is an available space again. End of the line for moves, we hope.
This past weekend was tough, and I won’t say more about it other than Mom told me she couldn’t go on anymore, and wanted to end her life. Today, after speaking to the director, we found Mom wrapped up like a taco on her bed. Her beloved companion arrived, and asked Mom if she wanted to go out for coffee or stay in bed. Mom elected to get up, but lay another minute or two and looked up to find us flanking her by the bed. She reached out, took our hands, and with a sweet, tender expression said, “I love you both so much.” Perhaps she senses that she can’t mentally stay with us much longer, that she will “gone” soon, nothing but her body left behind, driven by her great heart that won’t give up. Each time she tells me “I love you, darlin’,” I treasure the moment. One of these times it will be the last time. I love you, too, my darlin’ Mom.