A Wonderful Day
Late last night, just before she went to bed, my mother thanked me for �a wonderful day.� She had forgotten its rocky, sad beginning, the disappointment she had felt, the pain, the questions, the fears, and how part of the time she had thought I was someone else.
�What did my mother die of?� she asked me at one point, her eyes closed.
�Nothing in particular, really. Old age.�
�I hope she didn�t feel like this.�
�It�s hard to know how she felt. Everyone is different.�
When my mother�s sisters couldn�t take care of her anymore, they moved my grandmother to a nursing home in Napa, not far from where one of the sisters still lives. It was a long drive, but we visited her there several times. She didn�t know us. She was confined to a wheelchair, and seemed unaware, even, of her hands in her lap. My mother used to brush her long white hair.
Now, she is rarely able to see a connection between our visits with her mother and her own situation. There are brief moments of understanding, but they quickly evaporate. As long as I am here to take care of her, she feels safe. She has no idea how tired I am, and doesn�t notice, and cannot imagine, the effect her condition is having on me, my wife, and the rest of the family. Nor has she grasped the fact that there will likely come a time when I am no longer able to take care of her here at home.
If and when that time comes, I hope she doesn�t know it. For now, I�m glad when she thinks she�s had a wonderful day.
July 24, 2006
Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author
Main Page
Author�s Note
Background
Notebook
A Listening Thing
Among the Living
No Time to Cut My Hair
One Hand Clapping
Songs and Letters
Collected Poems
Early Short Stories
Armenian Translations
Interviews
News and Reviews
Highly Recommended
Let�s Eat
Favorite Books & Authors
Useless Information
Conversation
E-mail & Parting Thoughts
Flippantly Answered Questions