Sorting Day

It might be too soon to write, but this is the place I come when my heart and mind are full.  It feels too raw and too one-sided, just yet.  The main character in this story is my Mom, but she won’t be writing it and may or may not read it.  Even now, her iPhone is disabled.  Passwords can be problematic and customer service, worse still. 

I’m sitting in our hotel lobby, a 1/2 mile from her new home - The Healthcare Resort.  It has been her temporary home for the last 3 weeks, but the decision to stay was made two days ago.  Finding the care she needs at home has proven an impossibility.  Good care days apart is just not good at all.  

Yesterday was the 4th of July.  Independence Day.  We sat outside on the patio with the most perfect of breezes and ate take out from her favorite restaurant.  We played cards and had a private concert.  My son played the Star Spangled Banner and Sweet Home Alabama, unplugged on his electric guitar.  Pretty sweet, because he had to sit all the closer, so she could hear.  

We talked and colored and watched 50 fireworks shows all at once, stretched across the Topeka skyline.  We watched the deer who made their peace with the fireworks, but not with us, and knew again we were in a good spot when others came to watch the show from where we already were.

It was the best visit we’ve had in years.

But, today is Sorting Day.  She will go back to her apartment for the first time in a month and will be looking for a particular set of things…The essential ones.  

When you’re disabled and live alone, the essential things have to do with survival.  When you’re moving to a place where survival requires less of you, you can remember that you have art supplies and imagine having the energy to use them.  You can imagine spending an evening on your patio with your family instead of in the kitchen, because you did that just last night.

If you’re a daughter along for the ride, you keep telling yourself these things and take a lot of pictures of the good, because you need them to get through the part of this day that you’re dreading.  You naively believed that it wouldn’t come to this and you can’t stop wishing that it still won’t, somehow.  But, you will show up at the agreed upon time, and it will unfold like everything else.  And it will be okay.

The good will keep coming along with the impossibly hard, and we will keep trying to remember that Independence Day can include freedom to do life in a new way.  Maybe even a better way.  Last night reminded us that this isn’t all about loss and losing ground in the game of life.  

After all, we haven’t played cards or watched fireworks…in years.  We’ve been too busy doing the things we’ve always done, and learned we can survive without deviled eggs in the process.

I snapped this last night for her brother and sister-in-law after we hung up the phone, so they could see where we were.  This morning, it looks different and feels weightier.  I’m tempted to let it stand alone with all of its significance, and break my heart.  And all of ours.  

But, I remind myself that she’s not alone in that parking lot, or in that place.  I’m on the other side of the camera, and my siblings will be here when I am not, and her friends will be here when they are not, and her favorite priest will be here when they are not, and the staff will be here when they are not…

And with all of that, my husband said he sees hope.  So, I am going to go with that…