"Terrible, Just Terrible" In Memory of Mom

“This is terrible, just terrible!” roared my Mom. Such would begin her tirade hurled at

everyone on staff because she disliked a meal or some uncomfortable situation. She could be incorrigible with her excessive mood changes and demanding ways. Often, she would fluff her long salt and pepper hair and smooth on ruby red lipstick—creating a dramatic effect with her ivory porcelain skin. Then she would adjust huge dark sunglasses taking on a movie star persona. And then she’d smile. But watch out! For then would come the rant and rave that could burn your ears red.

To appease her, we visited her room armed with Burger King bags containing a double cheeseburger and fries. The savory bloom would trail from her room all the way down to the nursing station. A crooked grin would then appear on Mom’s face. Her long piano fingers containing three-inch nails hastily grabbed the French fries and greasy cheeseburger. Relishing every bite, she emitted happy sounds into the room.

Yes, mom spent her last fourteen years in a nursing home. Actually, there were three of them since two closed during that time due to management problems.

One might ask, why was she there in the first place? Why had not one of her children accommodated her with care in their homes? Because Mom wasn’t well. She was stubborn and irrational presenting with many behavioral health issues. While she was still living at home, she spent countless hours alone, choosing to remain in a dark, dank bedroom. Commandeering her space, she would venture out only to eat, bathe, or use the bathroom. She turned a deaf ear as she smoked one cigarette after another and if she could, take a drink.

Mom required professional assistance for both her ailing body and unsound mind. She would have benefited from daily psychotropic medication, but she refused medical and psychiatric care. And so much more. The last thing she would ever consider was any advice from me. I was In the midst of maintaining a home, trying to raise four young children and keep a healthy marriage. Having to meet her extensive needs would have been impossible.

I could not. Sadly, I had to make other arrangements.

But guilt still clenched its talons onto my back. I still felt anguished by this situation—that I should have done more. Just give in. But I didn’t. Sometimes you have to make the right decision and wait for the emotions to eventually catch up. Logic had to override intense feelings.

Now you probably are wondering … how is this a pleasant memorial to Mom? The difficult times need explanation before detailing positive instances. At best my family, my father, mother, younger sister and brother, were a dysfunctional family. Neighbors considered us to be off the beaten track. And when chaos reigned inside our household, it was heard outside. Neighbors would scamper to open their windows while we hastily slammed ours.

Needless to say, some of my best memories of Mom happened in those nursing homes. These encounters came about only by choosing to leave the distressful times and embrace the good ones. I came to realize that forgiving her was essential. Not the kind where you present the grievance and the other party expresses remorse. None of that. Mom had no clue of having done anything wrong. Instead, it had to be a personal decision to let go and start fresh. This took considerable time. But the results were worth it. Our relationship stretched bit by bit, from unsettled to reasonable—well, at least some of the time. I had to employ “new dance steps.” It was awkward at first. But it became more fluid as time went on … new steps better described in this particular way.

Ode to Mom

Snug in her wheelchair, she colored her lips ruby red,

as I sat by her side and asked how was your egg and toast?

Watching the game show offering our best guess,

while she hoped for a cheeseburger she loved most.

Often we sat in a far corner, the drapes pulled shut,

she shaded her brown eyes to fend the light.

Odd stories told of before and the now, with a fib,

anyone’s guess what was wrong … what was really right?

On the dresser, were piled her sweets,

frosted cupcakes and assorted chocolates in a box.

When nothing remained, we would run the wheelchair

to a vending machine, no heed to supper clocks.

Hair unkept, then wheeled down to the hallway salon,

expert hands cut, colored and fluffed anew.

Back in the room, touched up her lips, added some rouge,

asking where can she show off her new doo?

Travel on a spring day, when not too bright,

riverside cove with birds, lovely blue sky.

Puffing her smokes, she savored every breeze,

not wanting to ever leave and say goodbye.

“Terrible just terrible,” she would often wail,

especially when things were not going her way.

“In all my life, I have not died once!”

Until she did one cloudy morn … miss you, I say.

Fall 1928 – Spring 2018

Dear reader, journeying through this difficult experience taught me valuable life lessons ... especially to forgive and embrace hope. Be well in your life journey.

… and that’s how I live it.