I leaned down to kiss my mother goodbye.

She didn’t make eye contact or acknowledge me at all. Her thin veined hands were clasped tightly in her lap, her gaze focused on some object in the distance. I didn’t know if this behaviour was a reaction to me leaving her here or just another retreat into the lonely place her Alzheimer’s was taking her.

But here I was, leaving her alone in this nursing home. Strangers would be taking care of her now. What would these strangers think of her?

Emotional Night

I walked the corridor with my sister in silence. There was nothing to say, no words I could think of to console her. I mumbled something to her and she to me and we both climbed into our cars to head home.

Home? How could I face my family? My four-year-old twins would be bursting at the seams with curiosity. They knew that Nana had a new home. One they looked forward to visiting. How could I take them here, to this sad place? Yet I wanted to be able to visit often to make certain my mom was well cared for.

I shivered. It was a cold, dreary March day, damp with one of those chills that crept into your bones slowly, indiscernibly at first, but in the end, the chill was overwhelming and nearly impossible to dispel.

Somehow, I made it through the evening with my daughters. They had been busy with a birthday party for a friend that day, so that was all they talked about. They gloriously forgot to ask about Nana, but prattled on and on about sand art, chocolate cake and goody bags.

But once I closed their bedroom door and settled down for the night, there was no escaping my emotions. I got down on my knees at one point and spoke to God. I told Him I was not able to do this, to function as a wife, mother, daughter without His hand. He had to take over and figure all this out for me. At some point, I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, and thankfully it was uninterrupted.

Answered Prayers

I woke feeling rested if not healed. The sorrow was still there, but it had shifted, from being all around me, to somehow moving inside me. It was more contained, and somehow that made it more manageable. 

As we drove up the long path to the nursing home for our first visit as a family the next day, I admired the oaks, dogwoods and white birch trees lining the road. The buildings that housed the residents were low, white cozy-looking buildings, connected to one another in a circle. In the middle of the buildings was a garden with a circular path and bistro tables and chairs scattered around, so that families can sit outside any time of day.

Strangers would be taking care of my mother now. What would these strangers think of her? THERESE VOLLELLA

My sister had already arrived and was outside in the garden with my mom. It was not only sunny out but it was also one of those rare March days where the sun beat strongly and warmed you down to your toes. My mom was looking neat with her hair combed. She had on a clean outfit and someone had carefully placed the St. Patrick medal she had worn the day before, on her sweater today. My sister had noticed, too, and although it was a little thing, that attention to detail meant so much to both of us. Many of the residents stopped by to comment on how cute my daughters were, and my daughters, who were very friendly by nature, laughed, giggled and made friends with anyone who noticed them. We all hugged and kissed my mom goodbye.

As we turned to leave, my daughters asked when we could come back.

“Soon,” I said.

“Good!” they both chimed in.

My daughter Melissa looked around, amazed, and said, “I never saw so many Grandmas and Grandpas in one place. This is so much fun!”

I have been amazed by the many ways God has answered my prayers and blessed me. He has sent me many people to show me the way. Some have been strangers, some friends. That difficult March of my life, God sent the answer through my four-year-old daughter. She reminded me that when we look at life with a loving heart, the view has infinite possibilities. Sometimes it can even be splendorous.

Photo: Malchevska/stock.Adobe.com

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