More phone calls. More random conversations.
...
Some random summer day:
Mom has been withdrawing from life again - refusing to go to meals…
Thinking that she’s done here.
Today seems slightly different.
Commenting about the beautiful day…
Wondering about the temperature outside…
Soon she’s singing “Living for Jesus… a life that is true…”
Then more rambling.
Then suddenly she asks, “So do you have anything to say?”
Hmmm… Could this be a chance to help her adjust her focus?
Naw, she probably won’t be able to hear what I’m saying, let along comprehend.
I say something about her being perkier today. She seems to understand the words at least. So I dare to reference her song selection. LIVING for Jesus… I throw out a couple little ideas - like that it’s nice to see her focusing on living - instead of dying.
It takes a minute and a couple repeats, but she seems to get it.
I tell her that I understand her desire to be done here and move to heaven… but remind her that the timing is not up to her. And that maybe God is asking her to LIVE while she’s still here.
We had talked previously about how an “obsession with death” can be upsetting to the staff and to the other residents. I suggest that maybe she can still serve them and minister to them by choosing to focus on life and living. And maybe participate once in awhile when they try to get her to join in on group activities.
I remind her of a bunch of the things that she has always been good at. How she’s always been a people person and quick to give a smile and word of encouragement and to show interest in people. I reassure her a couple times that I can understand her recent withdrawal from people, but speculate that maybe she’s not done yet.
She seems to get it!
Suddenly she excuses herself to go outside on the deck for awhile.
But first… “I love you and I appreciate your exhortation. I’m gonna’ give it some thought.”
…
She called me later to report that she had gone to dinner and it was nice.
Memories - not always good
There were more phone calls... every day through the summer.
She had lots of good days… and lots of opportunities to offer her sweet smile and words of encouragement. We had lots of amazing conversations.
I discovered that IF I could ask the right questions, sometimes memories would come flooding back. She really enjoyed reliving the memories and would bring such conversations up again the next few days.
One of those conversations was pretty intense, catching me off-guard. We were talking about the old days - and she described some really difficult times. Events after which she would come home and sob. She started into that thought by saying something about remembering the first time she returned to the little white house and didn’t know of anything she had to apologize for. Wow!
What? She had never told me these things before, but somehow I was not really surprised. Maybe because I immediately recognized the feeling. The vague guilt. The assumption that this must be my fault. I asked if she remembered if it ever got better. “Not much,” she said.
I got a little emotional and a bit angry about how people have power to hurt other people so badly. Got choked up so that I couldn’t say anything for a bit… and she kept talking. I continued to listen for maybe another hour. Once she ran out of things to say - or the energy to say them - we hung up. I crumpled into my chair and cried for another half hour.
I wish there were a way to accept only the good traits from our ancestors and reject the nasty ones. It just breaks my heart to think of ever causing that kind of fear and consternation in the hearts of the people I love. That’s why I work pretty dang hard to rid myself of those negative tendencies… as I learn about them.
When I know better, I do better.
I hope.
…
But so many good memories, too.
Looking back, I'm pretty sure she would want to focus on the good ones.
Like visits from her great-grandkids...
