“Well, then stay in your car. All I know is we got work to do.” And off she walked.
Her comment felt empty, as if I shouldn’t feel what I was feeling. But, she didn’t mean to sound rude. She was there to move a lot of things within an hour. Her son and his friends had another moving job that afternoon and needed to work quickly.
In my rearview mirror, I saw Jennifer and Carie conversing in low tones. Carie walked to my door.
“Bearden, listen. Your mom isn’t going to see you. But if you think she will, stay in the car. Have you forgotten that God is taking care of you and your mom? Do you really think God will allow her to see you right now? If you wanna help, then get out and help. If you wanna not trust God and be paranoid, stay in the car.” And Carie, too, walked off.
She’s right, God, and I’m sorry. Of course I want to trust You. I want to help. Please protect me and keep Mom where she needs to be so she doesn’t see me.
I left the car and helped unload furniture and other belongings onto a cart bound for Mom’s room.
Carie and Jennifer texted me pictures of her room since I didn’t dare go upstairs. As I made suggestions about this table or that blanket, they moved things accordingly.
After an hour or so, they came downstairs and showed me more pictures.
“It’s so beautiful. Oh, look—you even hung the sconces! I wish I could see it in person.”
“Do you want to see it?” Jennifer asked. “We can take you up there.”
Carie chimed in. “Why don’t you come see it? I think seeing it would make you feel better. You can be in and out in two minutes. Have faith, sweetie. She’s not going to see you.”
“I’m scared, but okay. I do want to see it.”
We went up the back elevator, and as the doors opened, I peeked around the corner and sprinted four or five steps to Mom’s new home.
The minute I stepped inside, I sighed with relief and gratitude.
It was so quiet. Jennifer and Carie didn’t say a word. Putting my hand to my mouth, I looked from wall to wall as tears fell down my cheeks.
“I can’t believe y’all did this in just an hour. Oh, her Jesus painting. I love it there!”
I turned to Carie and Jennifer, and they both smiled.
“Is there anything you want us to change? If so, now is the time,” Jennifer suggested.
“It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
My heart raced as I walked into Mom’s bathroom. Her white monogrammed towels hung from the rack, and new white bath mats were placed on the floor. Her green tissue box cover matched so nicely with her white-and-green trash can. Mom would feel at home.
Pulling myself together, I took a few pictures for Daddy to see and for me to remember. Not only was Mom and Dad’s favorite pillow in the center of her bed, there was a large cross hanging on one wall, a painting of Jesus washing a disciple’s feet on another, and a framed Bible verse on the third. God filled the room with love.
This is love. I know it hurts, Sarah, but this is love.
TWENTY - ONE
REUNITED
August 15 to September 23, 2016
THAD AND THE KIDS ARRIVED home from Colorado on Monday, August 15th. The first day of school was two days later. Though it was time to put on my mom hat, in reality it felt like a facade. Underneath was a heavy layer I would wear for months: despair. Hitting rock bottom, I was now very angry at this disease.
I wanted to be strong for the kids during their first week of school—to let them know everything was going to be okay. But I had no strength. I could barely move. Thoughts roared in my head.
Will Mom be able to stay? Were they able to calm her down after that phone call? How long before they call us and say, “We’re sorry, but it’s not going to work”?
Thad knew my struggle, but even he didn’t grasp the depth of my pain. For those on the outside, including my family, “things should be better now.” Mom was placed, Dad and I had relief, and I could focus more attention on my husband and children.
But that wasn’t the case. It felt like my mother had died. My father, in my eyes, was a widower now, living by himself. And it happened overnight. Thad was going through it through me, but he was going to the office every day, planning work lunches, scheduling dinners for us with friends, planning our travels, and so on. Life continued for Thad and the kids—but for me, life had stopped.
Going to the carpool line for the first time without Mom was extremely painful. I couldn’t even turn on the radio or check my phone for emails or text messages. Daydreaming about Mom was all I did. Blowing bubbles, drinking our Starbucks, listening to sermons, and thinking of the times Mom spotted the same plastic bag stuck in a tree branch day after day. I missed her. I missed spending time with her in that carpool line.
Macy, the head nurse of memory care, texted us updates once or twice a week. “David and Sarah. Mom is hanging in there. She still wants to go home, but she is manageable. The good news is that she is easily redirected. The bad news is redirection doesn’t last very long! Please feel free to call or text me anytime.”
All Dad and I could do was wait for the phone call telling us we could finally see Mom. One week went by, then two, then three, each week more tortuous than the last.
Finally, we met with Macy and Shelley in the same conference room with the tissue boxes and bottled water on the table.
“I know you were hoping to see Becky by now and I am sorry it has already been three weeks,” Macy said. “But we will continue with updates on her and go from there with any questions or concerns you may have.”
“I can’t believe it’s been three weeks. It’s been the longest three weeks of my life,” Dad said, grabbing a tissue out of the box.
“I know, David. She is getting better. Becky is easily redirected, and she’s getting more involved with different activities. The first week and a half, she didn’t want to do anything at all. But she’s now helping plant flowers on the patio, and she helps at meal time serving drinks and setting tables.”
“Macy, what did she do or say for that first week and a half?” I asked. “And I need to know this: Does she remember I brought her here?”
“She does not know you brought her here. She thought she went shopping in Snider Plaza and walked over here by herself, and now we won’t let her out.”
Tears of joy and relief ran down my cheeks. I felt a crushing weight lift off my shoulders.
“The first two weeks, she was confused,” Macy said. “She was very angry at us, and we did use the calming gel several times. She somehow got the ankle bracelet off three times. We don’t know how in the world she did, but she did. You are right. She is a strong woman!”
We couldn’t help but laugh.
“She has a new friend named Ellie,” Macy continued. “Ellie is older than your Mom, but she’s very mobile, physically fit, and still speaks very well. The good news is Rebecca has a friend she loves to be with, and it has kept her busy and her mind occupied. They hold hands in the hallways, and it is absolutely precious. The bad news is she and Ellie have tried twice to escape. Ellie got hold of the code, and they tried to get out. So, while they are good friends, they are double trouble.”
Again, we all laughed.
Dad sighed. “I am so glad she has a friend. That makes me feel much better knowing she has someone. And I’m not surprised she’s tried to escape. We told you that you would have your hands full with Beck!”
Macy chuckled. “That we do. But she is very sweet. She has taken to me very well. She is feeling closer to me and trusting me more. She just needs more time to get into a routine, and she needs to establish a closer relationship and develop more trust with the other caregivers. Then we can talk about when you can come for a short visit. Shelley will explain more in a bit.”
Needs more time? Establish more trust with the caregivers before we can come? For a short visit?
“Macy, what do you mean she needs more time?” I asked. “She’s been here three weeks now.
Is ‘more time’ a week? Two weeks? Can you give us an idea? Because I thought we would see her around the three-week mark.”
“We want Rebecca to be in a place where she trusts us when you or David leave after a visit. We want her to feel comfortable and at home here. If we need to redirect her when you leave, we want her to trust where we are taking her. This kind of thing takes time, and for your mom, it takes extra time because of her personality. We don’t want to go through the first week all over again, which is why it’s important to trust the process and let us get her fully settled. I know this is very difficult to hear. I know you have been waiting, and you want badly to see her.”
“I really want to hear everything she is doing. Can you take me through the day with her?” Dad asked.
“She typically wakes up around 8:00 or 8:30 in the morning. She gets dressed by herself, then she comes out and sits at the same table every morning. There’s a group of them—she sits with Bart, Ellie, Lenore, and Pat every morning for coffee together. It’s very sweet.”
Dad sighed. “I’m so happy to hear that.”
“They eat breakfast, and then around 10:00 or so, everyone goes back to their room, usually to brush their teeth or do whatever they need to do,” Macy said. “Then a caregiver goes to each room to get them ready for activities. For example, today, Rebecca did a chair exercise class with the instructor, though last week, she wouldn’t have it. So that’s better! After exercise class, we took them outside on the patio to listen to music and plant a few flowers in pots. We’ve noticed she really loves messing with the flowers. She will move them all over the hallways and decorate.”
That was so Mom.
“And then it’s time for lunch. They eat lunch followed by either a craft or—Becky doesn’t really like crafts, we’ve noticed.”
“Oh, no, she does not like crafts,” I said. “I am not a craft mom, either, so I guess I can thank her for that.”
Macy smiled. “So sometimes, if it’s a craft, she will wander off to her room, which is fine. She has played bingo with us. We also have a game where we bowl—”
“Oh, yes, I remember the bowling! ‘Bowling with Billy Bob,’ a.k.a. Louie.”
“Exactly. And after those activities, we have entertainment come in two to three days a week from about 3:00 to 4:00. It may be a piano player, a singer, or an accordion player, but we try to do something musical because music brings back a lot of memories for the residents. And then it’s time for dinner.”
Dad’s face had softened.
“I’m happy to hear all of this, Macy,” he said. “I just keep envisioning Becky waiting for me and wondering when I will come back. But if she’s active and busy, it will help these long weeks go by faster.”
“I understand. She’s getting better, and more and more active with each week. This is another reason why we think it’s best to wait. The last thing we want is to undo everything we’ve worked so hard to do.”
Then it was Shelley’s turn. “First of all, I want to tell you how much I love Rebecca. She is such a delight to be around.”
Dad smiled. “It sounds to me like she is still her beautiful and loving self.”
“She is, David. My job is to meet with Rebecca once or twice a week and gauge where she is on an emotional level and help the caregivers and families understand what is going on in Rebecca’s mind. I’m like a facilitator or a therapist. It’s my job to get her to talk and express her feelings. Like Macy, I work to establish trust and rapport with Rebecca. Once Rebecca divulges things that are playing in her mind, I am able to guide you and the caregivers to help her have a better quality of life.”
I liked Shelley. She looked like she could be one of Mom’s friends from Houston.
I had to ask. “Shelley, based on your conversations with Mom—and I know Macy said she thinks she walked over here from the shopping plaza—has Mom said anything to you? Has she mentioned her daughter left her here?”
“No, absolutely not. She hasn’t mentioned that one time. It’s a blessing, really. So be grateful for that. She will never know you dropped her off here, Sarah.”
“Thank you, because”—I started crying again—“I haven’t been able to live with the pain and guilt and despair of leaving her here. I can’t take my mind off that day. She called me the first night, and I—”
Macy interrupted me. “I am so sorry you had to receive that call the first night. I want you to know I was not there—there was another head nurse that night. The one thing I hope you will hold onto is that your mom does not remember how she got here, and she does not remember that phone call. She loves you, and she talks about you to me all the time.”
Although I felt some relief hearing those words, I still held so much pain and guilt, I couldn’t speak.
As we came to the end of our meeting, I wanted to confirm once more how long Macy thought it would be before Dad and I could see her again.
“So you think it could be two more weeks, possibly three? That’s five or six weeks total. And Mom and Dad’s fiftieth anniversary is September 10. Will he get to see her for their anniversary?”
“I can’t make any promises. Again, we don’t want to undo what we’ve worked so hard to do, and she’s coming along slowly but surely. It’s not easy, but I am asking that you trust the process.”
Dad told Macy there was no pressure over their upcoming anniversary.
“I know Beck doesn’t even know what day it is. Don’t worry if she’s not ready yet. I don’t want to mess anything up, either.”
“Dad, you’re right,” I said. “It’s just that I know you and Mom have never been apart for more than two weeks since you were in the Navy.”
He’d told me several times through the years how hard it was to be apart back then. It broke my heart knowing he may not see her on their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
We felt comfort and solace walking out of that meeting, and we anxiously waited for weeks five and six to come.
MOM AND DAD’S FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY came and went. Dad had a huge basket of fruit and chocolates delivered to Mom with a simple note: “I love you, Beck. I’ll see you soon. Love, David.”
Six days after their anniversary, Dad received a phone call.
“David, it’s Macy. Would you like to see Rebecca tomorrow? I think it’s time. No more than one hour—that is all she can handle right now—but if you are ready, I think now is a good time.”
Dad was more than ready. He was advised to let her do most of the talking. He was prepared to tell her he was going back and forth to Houston for work, but otherwise he would wing it.
It bothered me that I wasn’t invited to see Mom. I didn’t understand why I had to wait, but Macy said it was best for Dad to come alone. If we came together, there was a high probability she would think we had ganged up on her or were spending time together without her, thus causing more anxiety and confusion. Macy also knew it would be an emotional reunion between Mom and Dad, and it would have been too much for Mom to handle if we were both there. It made sense, but it was certainly a shot to the heart.
The day Dad saw Mom was difficult for me. I dropped the kids off, went to yoga, then made up errands to keep me busy. All I could think about was how much I wanted to hug my mom.
I anxiously waited for Dad to call. My phone rang while I was sitting in the carpool line.
“Dad! How did it go? I’ve been dying to hear from you!”
Dad paused on the other end. “It went well. But it was so emotional, Sarah. She cried and cried and cried. She told me she thought I had left her for another woman.”
“What? That kills me. What did you say?”
“I told her she was my one and only, and we have been married for fifty years. I grabbed that pillow I gave you, and I put it in her lap. She loved it. It made her smile.”
“What else? Tell me everything!”
“Honestly, I’m pretty wiped. There were a lot of tears. I was there about an hour, or a little less, and they helped redirect her so
I could leave. Leaving was the hardest part. I don’t know how you did it, Sarah. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Oh, Daddy, we’re a team. I understand if you don’t want to talk right now. I’m sorry I got all excited. Hearing you and knowing you got to see her gives me hope for my visit. I pray it will get easier and easier each day you go.”
“I’ll call you when I am thinking more clearly.” He hung up the phone.
Dad and I spoke again that night. I felt weak all over hearing about Mom’s rapid decline and listening to him wonder if her decline was inevitable and would have happened anyway, or if the placement and being in memory care had accelerated it.
Emails of encouragement flooded my inbox over the next few days. The love and prayers of so many friends gave us strength and courage to get through each day.
Six weeks and four days after abandonment day, I got the phone call.
“Hey, Sarah. Are you ready to see Mom?”
TWENTY - TWO
KEEP THE FAITH
September 27, 2016
“GINNY, ARE YOU READY TO see Mom? I need you with me. I’m so nervous. Call me back!”
I knew Big Ginny could break the ice and get Mom laughing, as well as take the pressure off me to lead the lunch conversation. Macy said it would be best if I went upstairs to see Mom first, alone, for about thirty minutes, then have Ginny join us for lunch. Mom had been asking about Ginny, so it was the perfect time to bring her into the picture.
Ginny called me back. “Are you kidding me? I feel like I’ve been in a jail cell not seeing Becky. I will definitely be there, and I’ll bring her some treats for the whole floor.”
The thought of seeing Mom made me increasingly anxious. My chest became hot and broke out in hives, and my heart pounded whenever I thought of our reunion. I was also terrified of the moment she saw my face. Would she remember who left her there? My mind raced with horrible scenarios.
As I got in Ginny’s car for the visit, I told her I was terrified. I wore my long cross necklace in hopes that it would remind Mom how much God loved her.
Broken Beauty Page 20
